ICTOK  RIUMPH 


f 


"Stmii-southworth 


VICTOR'S  Triumph 


The  Sequel  to  "A  Beautiful  Fiend" 


By 
MRS.  E.  D.  E.  N.  SOUTHWORTH 

AUTHOR    OF 

"The  Lost  Lady  of  Lone,"    «*The  Trail  of  the  Serpent," 
"  Nearest  and  Dearest,'*   "  Her  Mother's  Secret,"  Etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 


POPULAR  BOOKS 


Price  per  volume, 


By  MRS.  E.  D.  E  N.  SOUTHWORTH 

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Beautiful  Fiend,  A 
Brandon  Coyle's  Wife 

Sequel  to  A  Skeleton  in  the  Closet 
Bride's  Fate,  The 

Sequel  to  The  Changed  Brides 
Bride's  Ordeal,  The 
Capitola's  Peril 

Sequel  to  the  Hidden  Hand 
Changed  Brides,  The 
Cruel  as  the  Grave 
David  Lindsay 

Sequel  to  Gloria 

Deed  Without  a  Name,  A 
Dorothy  Harcourt's  Secret 

Sequel  to  A  Deed  Without  a  Name 
"  Em  " 
Em  s  Husband 

Sequel  to  "Em" 

Fair  Play 

For  Whose  Sake 

Sequel  to  Why  Did  He  Wed  Her? 
For  Woman's  Love 
Fulfilling  Her  Destiny 

Sequel  to  When  Love  Commands 
Gloria 
Her  Love  or  Her  Life 

Sequel  to  The  Bride's  Ordeal 
Her  Mother's  Secret 
Hidden  Hand,  The 
How  He  Won  Her 

Sequel  to  Fair  Play 
Ishmael 

Leap  in  the  Dark,  A 
Ulith 

Sequel  to  the  Unlcvcti  "Wife 
Little  Nea's  Engagement 
Sequel  to  Nearest  and  Dearest 


Lost  Heir,  The 

Lost  Lady  of  Lone,  The 

Love's  Bitterest  Cup 

Sequel  to  Her  Mother's  Secret 
Mysterious  Marriage,  The 

Sequel  to  A  Leap  in  the  Dark 

Nearest  and  Dearest 
Noble  Lord,  A 

Sequel  to  The  Lost  Heir 
Self-Raised 

Sequel  to  Ishmael 

Skeleton  in  the  Closet,  A 
Struggle  of  a  Soul,  The 
Sequel  to  The  Lost  Lady  of  Lone 

Sweet  Love's  Atonement 
Test  of  Love,  The 

Sequel  to  A  Tortured  Heart 
To  His  Fate 

Sequel  to  Dorothy  Harcourt*8 
Secret 
Tortured  Heart,  A 

Sequel  to  The  Trail  of  the  Serpent 
Trail  of  the  Serpent,  The 
Tried  for  Her  Life 

Sequel  to  Cruel  as  the  Grave 

Unloved  Wife.  The 
Unrequited  Love,  An 

Sequel  to  For  Woman's  Love 
Victor's  Triumph 

Sequel  to  A  Beautiful  Fiend 

V^T^^n  Love  Commands 
When  Snadows  Die 

Sequel  to  Lov«^'s  Bitterest  Cup 
Why  .Did  He  Wed  Her? 
Zenobia's  Suitors 

Sequel  to  Sweet  Love's  Atonement 


For  Sale  by  all  Booksellers  or  will  be  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price, 

A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 
52  Duane  Street New  York 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 


CHAPTER  I 

SAMSON  AND  DELILAH 

As  SOON  as  the  subtle  siren  was  left  alone  in  the  draw- 
ing-room with  the  aged  clergyman,  she  began  weaving  her 
spells  around  him  as  successfully  as  did  the  beautiful  en- 
chantress Vivien  around  the  sage  Merlin. 

Throwing  her  bewildering  dark  eyes  up  to  his  face,  she 
murm.ured  in  hurried  tones : 

"You  will  not  betray  me  to  this  family?  Oh,  consider! 
I  am  so  young  and  so  helpless !" 

"And  so  beautiful/'  added  the  old  man  under  his  breath, 
as  he  gazed  with  involuntary  admiration  upon  her  fair, 
false  face.  Then  aloud,  he  said:  "I  have  already  told  you, 
wretched  child,  that  I  would  forbear  to  expose  you  so  long 
as  you  should  conduct  yourself  with  strict  propriety  here ; 
but  no  longer." 

"You  do  not  trust  me.  Ah,  you  do  not  see  that  one 
false  step,  witli  its  terrible  consequence,  has  been  such  an 
awful  and  enduring  lesson  to  me  that  I  could  not  make 
another.  I  am  safer  now  from  the  possibility  of  error 
than  is  the  most  innocent  and  carefully  guarded  child. 
Oh !  can  you  not  understand  this  ?"  she  asked,  pathetically. 

And  her  argument  was  a  very  specious  and  plausible 
one,  and  it  made  an  impression. 

*'i  can  well  believe  that  the  fearful  retribution  that  fol- 
lowed so  fast  upon  your  'false  step,'  as  yor  choose  to  call 

8 

9i29t>0 


4  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

it,  has  bofn  and  ^ili  he  an  awful  warning  to  you.  But 
some  warnings  come  too  late.  What  can  be  your  long 
futurslife-?^'  he  s^idly  ingiiired. 

"Alas  ?  what?"  she  echoed,  with  a  profound  sigh.  "Even 
under  the  most  propitious  circumstances — what?  If  I  am 
permitted  to  stay  here,  I  shall  be  buried  alive  in  this  coun- 
try house,  without  hope  of  resurrection.  Perhaps  fifty 
years  I  may  have  to  live  here.  The  old  lady  will  die. 
Emma  will  marry.  Her  children  will  grow  up  and  marry. 
And  in  all  the  changes  of  future  years  I  shall  vegetate 
here  without  change,  and  without  hope  except  in  the  bet- 
ter  world.  And  yet,  dreary  as  the  prospect  is,  it  is  the 
best  that  I  can  expect,  the  best  that  I  can  even  desire, 
and  much  better  than  I  deserve,"  she  added,  with  a  hu- 
mility that  touched  the  old  man's  heart. 

"I  feel  sorry  for  you,  child;  very,  very  sorry  for  your 
blighted  young  life.  Poor  child !  you  can  never  be  happy 
again;  but  listen — you  can  be  good !"  he  said,  very  gently. 

And  then  he  suddenly  remembered  what  her  bewilder- 
ing charms  had  made  him  for  a  moment  forget — that  was, 
that  this  unworthy  girl  had  been  actually  on  the  point  of 
marriage  with  an  honorable  man  when  death  stepped  in 
and  put  an  end  to  the  foolish  engagement. 

So,  after  a  painful  pause,  he  said  slowly: 

"My  child,  I  have  heard  that  you  were  about  to  be  mar- 
ried to  Charles  Cavendish,  when  his  sudden  death  arrested 
the  nuptials.    Is  that  true?" 

"It  is  true,"  she  answered,  in  a  tone  of  humility  and 
sorrow. 

"But  how  could  you  venture  to  dream  of  marrying 
him?" 

"Ah,  me;  I  knew  I  was  unworthy  of  him.  But  he  fell 
in  love  with  me.  I  could  not  help  that.  Now,  could  I? 
Now,  could  I?"  she  repeated,  earnestly  and  pathetically, 
looking  at  him. 

"N-n-no.    Perhaps  you  could  not,"  he  admitted. 

"  And,  oh,  he  courted  me  so  bard !  so  hard !  And  I  could 
not  prevent  him." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  5 

^* Could  you  not  have  avoided  him?  Could  you  not  have 
left  the  house?" 

"Ah,  no;  I  had  no  place  to  go  to.  I  had  lost  my  situa- 
tion in  the  school." 

"Still  you  should  never  have  engaged  yourself  to  marry 
Charles  Cavendish,  for  you  must  have  been  aware  that  if 
he  had  known  your  true  story  he  would  never  have  thought 
of  taking  you  as  his  wife.'^ 

"Oh,  I  know  it.  And  I  knew  it  then.  And  I  was  un- 
happy enough  about  it.  But,  oh !  what  could  I  do  ?  I 
could  not  prevent  his  loving  me,  do  what  I  would.  I  could 
not  go  away  from  the  house,  because  I  had  no  place  on 
earth  to  go  to.  And,  least  of  all  would  I  go  to  him  and 
tell  him  the  terrible  story  of  my  life.  I  would  rather  have 
died  than  have  told  that !  I  should  have  died  of  hu- 
miliation in  the  telling.  I  couldn't  tell  him.  Now,  could 
I?    Could  I?" 

"I  suppose  you  had  not  the  courage  to  do  so." 

"No,  indeed,  I  had  not.  Yet  very  often  I  told  him,  in 
a  general  way,  that  I  was  most  unworthy  of  him.  But  he 
never  would  believe  that." 

"  No ;  I  suppose  he  believed  you  to  be  everything  that  is 
pure,  good,  and  heavenly.  What  a  terrible  reproach  his 
exalted  opinion  of  you  must  have  been !" 

"Oh,  it  was!  it  was!"  she  answered,  hypocritically.  "It 
was  such  a  severe  reproach  that,  having  in  a  moment  of 
weakness  yielded  to  his  earnest  prayer  and  consented  to 
become  his  wife,  I  soon  cast  about  for  some  excuse  for 
breaking  the  engagement;  for  I  felt  if  it  were  a  great 
wrong  to  make  such  an  engagement,  rt  would  be  a  still 
greater  wrong  to  keep  it.    Don't  you  agree  with  me  ?" 

"Yes,  most  certainly." 

"Well,  while  I  was  seeking  some  excuse  to  break  off 
the  marriage,  death  stepped  in  and  put  an  end  to  it.  Per- 
haps then  I  ought  to  have  left  the  house,  but — I  had  no 
money  to  go  with,  and,  as  I  said  before,  no  place  to  go  to. 
And,  besides,  Emma  Cavendish  was  overwlielmed  with 
grief,  and  could  not  bear  to  be  left  alone:  and  she  begged 


6  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

me  to  come  down  here  with  her.  So,  driven  by  my  own 
necessities  and  drawn  by  hers,  I  came  down.  Do  you  blame 
me  ?    Do  you  blame  me  ?"  she  coaxed,  pathetically. 

"No,  I  do  not  blame  you  for  that.  But,"  said  the  old 
man,  gravely  and  sadly,  shaking  his  head,  "why,  when  you 
got  here,  did  you  turn  eavesdropper  and  spy?" 

"Oh,  me!  oh,  dear  me!"  sobbed  the  siren.  "It  was  the 
sin  of  helplessness  and  cowardice.  I  dreaded  discovery  so 
much.  Every  circumstance  alarmed  me.  Your  arrival  and 
your  long,  mysterious  conversation  with  madam  alarmed 
me.  I  thought  exposure  imminent.  I  feared  to  lose  this 
home,  which,  lonely,  dreary,  hopeless  as  it  is  to  me,  is  yet 
the  only  refuge  I  have  left  on  earth.  I  am  penniless  and 
helpless ;  and  but  for  this  kind  family  I  should  be  homeless 
and  friendless.  Think!  if  I  had  been  cast  out  upon  the 
world,  what  mu?t  have  been  my  fate !" 

"What,  indeed !"  echoed  the  old  man. 

"Therefore,  I  dreaded  to  be  cast  out.  I  dreaded  dis- 
covery. Your  visit  filled  me  with  uneasiness,  that,  as  the 
day  wore  away,  reached  intense  anxiety,  and  finally  arose 
to  insupporta])le  anguish  and  suspense.  Then  I  went  to 
listen  at  the  door,  only  to  hear  whether  your  conversation 
concerned  me — whether  I  was  still  to  be  left  in  peace,  or 
to  be  cast  out  upon  the  bitter,  cold  world.  Ah,  do  not 
blame  me  too  much  !  Just  think  how  I  suffered !"  she  said, 
pathetically,  clasping  her  hands. 

"  Poor  girl !  you  were  snared  in  the  web  of  your  own 
contriving.  Yet,  still,  when  I  caught  you  in  that  net,  why 
did  you  deny  j'our  identity,  and  try  to  make  me  believe 
you  were  somebody  else?" 

"  Oh,  oh !  the  same  sin  of  helplessness  and  cowardice ; 
the  same  fear  of  discovery  and  exposure;  the  same  horror 
of  being  cast  forth  from  this  pure,  safe,  peaceful  home, 
into  the  bitter,  cold,  foul,  perilous  world  outside !  I  feared 
if  you  found  out  who  I  was,  you  would  expose  me,  and  I 
should  be  cast  adrift.  And  then  it  ail  came  so  suddenly  I 
had  no  time  for  reflection.  The  instinct  of  self-preserva- 
tion mxade  me  deny  my  identity  before  I  considered  what 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  T 

a  falsehood  I  uttered.  Ah,  have  you  no  pity  for  me,  iu 
considering  the  straits  to  which  I  was  reduced?"  she 
pleaded,  clasping  her  hands  before  him,  and  raising  her 
eyes  to  his  face. 

"  *The  way  of  the  transgressor  is  hard,'  "  murmured  the 
minister  to  himself.    Then  he  answered  her: 

"Yes,  I  do  pity  you  very  much.  I  pity  you  for  your  sins 
and  sufTerings.  But  more  than  all,  I  pity  you  for  the 
moral  and  spiritual  blindness  of  which  you  do  not  even 
seem  to  be  suspicious,  far  less  conscious." 

"T  do  not  understand  you,"  murmured  Mary  Grey,  in  a 
low,  frightened  tone. 

"N"o,  you  do  not  understand  me.  Well,  I  will  try  to  ex- 
plain. You  have  pleaded  your  youth  as  an  excuse  for 
your  first  'false  step,'  as  you  call  it.  But  I  tell  you  that  a 
girl  who  is  old  enough  to  sin  is  old  enough  to  know  bet- 
ter than  to  sin.  And  if  you  were  not  morally  and  spirit- 
ually blind,  you  would  see  this.  Secondly,  you  have 
pleaded  your  necessities — that  is,  your  interests — as  a  just 
cause  and  excuse  for  your  matrimonial  engagement  with 
Governor  Cavendish,  and  for  your  eavesdropping  in  this 
house,  and  also  for  your  false  statements  to  me.  But  I 
tell  you,  if  you  had  been  as  truly  penitent  as  you  pro- 
fessed to  be,  you  would  have  felt  no  necessity  so  pressing 
as  the  necessity  for  true  repentance,  forgiveness  and  amend- 
ment. And  if  you  had  not  been  morally  and  spiritually 
blind,  you  would  have  seen  this  also.  I  sometimes  think 
that  it  may  be  my  duty  to  discover  you  to  this  family. 
Yet  I  will  be  candid  with  you.  I  fear  that  if  you  should 
be  turned  adrift  here,  you  might,  and  probably  would,  fall 
into  deeper  sin.  Therefore  I  will  not  expose  you — for  the 
present,  and  upon  conditions.  You  are  safe  from  me  so 
long  as  you  remain  true,  honest  and  faithful  to  this  house- 
hold. But  upon  the  slightest  indication  of  any  sort  of 
duplicity  or  double  dealing,  I  shall  unmask  you  to  ]\Iadtim 
Cavendish.    And  now  you  had  better  retire.     Good-night." 

And  with  these  words  the  old  man  walked  to  a  side-table. 


S  VICTOR'S  TRroMPH 

took  a  bedroom  candle  in  his  hand,  and  gave  it  to  the 
widow. 

^lary  Grey  snatched  and  kissed  his  hand,  courtesied  and 
withdrew. 

When  she  got  to  her  own  room,  she  threw  herself  into  a 
chair  and  laughed  softly,  murmuring : 

''The  old  Pharisee!  He  is  more  than  half  in  love  with 
me  now.  I  know  it,  and  I  feel  it.  Yet,  to  save  his  own 
credit  with  himself,  he  pretends  to  lecture  me,  and  tries  to 
persuade  himself  that  he  means  it.  But  he  is  half  in  love 
with  me.  Before  I  have  done  with  him  he  shall  be  wholly 
in  love  with  me.  And  won't  it  be  fun  to  have  his  gray 
head  at  my  feet,  proposing  marriage  to  me?  And  that  is 
what  I  mean  to  bring  him  to,  before  a  month  is  over  his 
venerable  skeleton." 

And  with  this  characteristic  resolution  Mary  Grey  went 
to  bed. 


CHAPTER  11 

A  MYSTERIOUS  BENEFACTOE 

There  never  was  a  closer  friendship  between  two  girls 
than  that  which  bound  Laura  Lytton  and  Emma  Caven- 
dish together. 

On  the  night  of  Laura's  arrival,  after  they  had  retired 
from  the  drawing-room,  and  Electra  had  gone  to  bed  and 
gone  to  sleep,  Laura  and  Emma  sat  up  together  in  Emma's 
room  and  talked  until  nearly  daylight — talked  of  every- 
thing in  the  heavens  above,  the  earth  below,  and  the  waters 
under  the  earth.  And  then,  when  at  length  they  parted, 
Laura  asked: 

"  May  I  come  in  here  with  you  to  dress  to-morrow  ?  And 
then  we  can  finish  our  talk." 

"Surely,  love.  L^se  my  room  Just  like  your  own,"  an- 
swered Emma,  with  a  ki?s. 

And  they  separated  for  a  few  hours. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  9 

But  early  in  the  morning,  as  soon  as  Emma  was  out  of 
bed,  she  heard  a  tap  at  her  chamber  door,  and  she  opened 
it  to  see  Laura  standing  there  in  her  white  merino  dress- 
ing-gown, with  her  dark  hair  hanging  down  and  a  pile  of 
clothing  over  her  arms. 

^'Come  in,  dear,"  said  Emma,  gretting  her  with  a  kiss. 

And  Laura  entered  and  laid  her  pile  of  clothing  on  a 
chair,  discovering  in  her  hand  a  rich  casket,  which  she  set 
upon  the  dressing-table,  saying: 

"Here,  Emma,  dear,  I  have  something  very  curious  to 
show  you.  You  have  heard  me  speak  of  some  unknown 
friend  who  is  paying  the  cost  of  my  brother's  and  my  own 
education  ?" 

"Yes.  Haven't  you  found  out  yet  who  he  is?"  inquired 
Miss  Cavendish. 

"x^o;  and  I  do  not  even  know  whether  our  benefactor 
is  a  he  or  a  she.  But,  anyhow,  he  has  sent  me  this,"  said 
Laura,  unlocking  the  casket  and  lifting  the  lid. 

"A  set  of  diamonds  and  opals  fit  for  a  princess!"  ex- 
claimed Emma,  in  admiration,  as  she  gazed  upon  the  deep 
blue  satin  tray,  on  which  was  arranged  a  brooch,  a  pair 
of  earrings,  a  bracelet  and  a  necklace  of  the  most  beautiful 
opals  set  in  diamonds. 

"Yes,  they  are  lovely.  They  must  have  come  from  Paris. 
They  are  highly  artistic,"  answered  Laura.  "But  look  at 
these  others,  will  you?  These  are  barbaric,"  she  added, 
lifting  the  upper  tray  from  the  casket,  and  taking  from 
the  recess  beneath  the  heaviest  cable  gold  chain,  a  heavier 
finger  ring,  and  a  pair  of  bracelets.  "Just  take  these  in 
your  double  hands  and  ^heft'  them,  as  the  children  say," 
she  concluded,  as  she  put  the  weight  of  gold  in  Emma's 
open  palms,  which  sank  at  first  under  the  burden. 

"There!  what  do  you  think  of  that?"  inquired  Laura. 

"I  think  they  are  barbaric,  as  you  said.  Well  intended, 
no  doubt,  but  utterly  barbaric.  Why,  this  gold  chain  might 
fasten  up  the  strongest  bulldog,  and  these  bracelets  serve 
as  fetters  for  the  most  desperate  felon.  Where  on  earth 
were  they  manufactured?"  inquired  Miss  Cavendish. 


10  VICTOR'S  TRimiPH 

"In  some  rude  country  where  there  was  more  gold  than 
good  taste,  evidently.  However,  Emma,  dear,  there  is 
something  very  touching,  very  pathetic,  to  my  mind,  in 
these  anonymous  offerings.  Of  course  they  are  almost  use- 
less to  me.  I  could  never  wear  the  chain,  or  the  bracelets. 
They  are  far  too  clumsy  for  any  one  but  an  Indian  chief ; 
and  I  can  never  wear  those  lovely  opals  unless  by  some 
miracle  I  grow  rich  enough  to  have  everything  in  harmony 
with  them.  And  yet,  Emma,  the  kindness,  and — what 
shall  I  say? — the  humility  of  this  anonymous  giver  su 
deeply  touches  my  heart,  that  I  would  not  part  with  even  r 
link  of  this  useless  chain  to  buy  myself  bread,  if  I  were 
starving,'^  murmured  Laura,  with  the  tears  filling  her  eyefc, 
as  she  replaced  tlie  jewels  in  their  casket. 

"And  you  have  no  suspicion  who  the  donor  is?" 

"None  whatever.  These  came  to  me  through  Mr.  Lyle, 
the  agent  who  receives  and  pays  the  money  for  our  educa- 
tion." 

"What  does  your  brother  say  to  all  this?" 

"Oh,  it  makes  him  very  uneasy  at  times.  He  shrinks 
from  receiving  this  anonymous  assistance.  It  is  all  Mr. 
Lyle  can  do  now,  by  assuring  him  that  in  the  end  he  will 
find  it  all  right,  to  induce  him  to  continue  to  receive  it. 
And,  at  all  events,  he  declares  that  after  he  graduates  he 
will  not  take  another  dollar  of  this  anonymous  fund — con- 
science money  or  not — but  that  he  will  begin  to  pay  back 
in  bank,  with  interest  and  compound  interest,  the  debt  that 
he  is  now  incurring." 

"I  think  that  resolution  is  highly  to  his  honor,"  said 
Emma  Cavendish. 

"And  he  will  keep  it.    I  know  Alden,"  answered  Laura. 

And  then  the  two  girls  hastened  to  dress  themselves  for 
breakfast.  And  very  well  they  both  looked  as  they  left 
their  room. 

Laura  wore  her  crimson  merino  morning  dress,  with 
white  linen  cuffs  and  collar,  a  costume  that  well  became 
her  olive  complexion  and  dark  hair  and  eyes. 

Emma  wore  a  black  cashmere  trimmed  with  lusterless 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  11 

black  silk,  and  folded  book  muslin  cuffs  and  collar.  And 
in  this  dark  dress  her  radiant  blond  beauty  shone  like  a 
fair  star. 

They  rapped  at  Electra's  door  to  bring  her  out. 

She  made  her  appearance  looking  quite  dazzling.  Elec- 
tra  had  a  gay  taste  in  dress.  She  loved  bright  colors,  and 
many  of  them.  She  wore  a  purple  dressing-gown  with  a 
brilliant  shawl  border — a  dress  for  a  portly  old  lady  rather 
than  for  a  slim  young  girl. 

They  went  down  together  to  the  breakfast-room,  where 
they  found  the  languishing  widow  and  the  old  clergyman 
tete-a-tete. 

Mrs.  Grey  greeted  them  with  a  sweet  smile  and  honeyed 
words,  and  Dr.  Jones  with  a  kindly  good-morning  and 
handshake. 

And  they  sat  down  to  breakfast. 

This  Easter  Sunday  had  dawned  clearly  and  beautifully. 
The  family  of  Blue  Cliffs  were  all  going  to  attend  divine 
service  at  Wendover. 

So,  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  the  carriage  was  or- 
dered, and  the  young  ladies  went  upstairs  to  dress  for 
church. 

At  nine  o'clock  the  whole  party  set  out.  Emma  Caven- 
dish, Laura  Lytton  and  Electra  Coroni  went  in  the  old 
family  coach,  carefully  driven  by  Jerome.  Mrs.  Grey  went 
in  a  buggy,  driven  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones. 

Who  arranged  this  last  drive,  this  tete-d-tete,  no  one 
knew,  except  the  artful  coquette  and  her  venerable  victim. 

They  all  reached  the  church  in  good  time. 

The  rector,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Goodwin,  read  the  morning 
service,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones  preached  the  sermon. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  services,  when  the  congregation 
were  leaving,  Mr.  Craven  Kyte  came  up  to  pay  his  respects 
to  the  ladies  from  Blue  Cliffs. 

Miss  Cavendish  introduced  him  to  Dr.  Jones,  explain- 
ing that  he  had  been  a  ward  of  her  father,  and  was  once 
an  inmate  of  Blue  Cliff  Hall. 


12  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Dr.  Jones  received  the  young  man  with  courtesy,  and 
in  his  turn  introduced  him  to  Miss  Coroni. 

Then  Emma  Cavendish  invited  him  to  go  home  with 
them  to  dinner,  kindly  reminding  him  of  the  old  custom 
of  spending  his  holidays  in  his  guardian's  house. 

With  a  smile  and  a  bow,  and  with  a  warm  expression  of 
thanks,  the  young  man  accepted  the  offered  hospitality. 

And  when  the  party  entered  their  carriages  to  return 
to  Blue  Cliffs,  Craven  Kyte,  mounted  on  a  fine  horse,  at- 
tended them. 

But  mind,  he  did  not  ride  beside  the  carriage  that  con- 
tained the  three  }oung  ladies,  but  beside  the  gig  occupied 
by  Mary  Grey  and  Dr.  Jones. 

And  the  very  first  inquiry  he  made  of  Emma,  on  reach- 
ing the  house,  was : 

"Is  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones  a  married  man?" 

"Why,  what  a  question!"  exclaimed  Emma,  laughing. 
"N'o,  he  is  not  a  married  man.  He  is  a  widower.  Why 
io  you  ask?" 

"I  don't  know.  But  I  thought  he  was  a  widower.  He 
seems  very  much  taken  with  Mrs.  Grey,"  sighed  the  young 
man. 

"Oh,  is  that  it?"  laughed  Emma,  as  she  ran  away  to  take 
off  her  bonnet  and  mantle. 

And  that  Easter  Sunday  Mary  Grey  found  herself  again 
in  a  dilemma  between  her  two  proposed  victims,  the  gray- 
haired  elergyman  and  the  raven-locked  youth. 

But  she  managed  them  both  with  so  much  adroitness  that 
at  the  close  of  the  day,  when  Craven  Kyte  was  riding  slowly 
back  to  Wendover,  he  was  saying  to  himself : 

"  She  is  fond  of  me,  after  all ;  the  beauty !  the  darling ! 
the  angel !  Oh,  that  such  a  perfect  creature  should  be  fond 
of  me!  I  am  at  this  moment  the  very  happiest  man  on 
earth." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  13 

CHAPTER  III 

A  GROWL  FROM  UNCLE  JACKY 

The  next  day,  Easter  Monday,  brought  a  messenger  from 
Lytton  Lodge,  a  messenger  who  was  no  other  than  Mithri- 
dates,  commonly  called  "Taters,''  once  a  servant  of  Fred- 
erick Fanning,  the  landlord  of  White  Perch  Point,  but  now 
a  hired  hand  of  John  L}i;ton's. 

Mithridates,  or  Taters,  rode  an  infirm-looking  old  draft 
horse,  with  a  dilapidated  saddle  and  bridle,  and  wore  a  hat 
and  coat  exceedingly  shabby  for  a  gentleman's  servant. 

He  also  led  a  second  horse,  furnished  with  a  side-saddle. 

He  dismounted  at  the  carriage  steps,  tied  his  horses  to 
a  tree,  and  boldly  went  up  to  the  front  door  and  knocked. 

Jerome  opened  it,  and  administered  a  sharp  rebuke  to 
the  messenger  for  presuming  to  knock  at  the  visitor's  door 
instead  of  at  the  servants'. 

"If  I'd  a  come  to  the  servants',  I'd  rapped  at  the  ser- 
vants' door;  but  as  I  have  come  to  the  white  folk's,  I  rap 
at  der  door.  Here !  I've  fotch  a  letter  from  Marse  Jacky 
Lytton  to  his  niece,  Miss  Lorrer,"  said  Taters,  pompously. 

"Give  it  to  me,  then,  and  I'll  take  it  in  to  her,''  said 
Jerome. 

"Set  you  up  with  it!  I  must  'liver  of  this  here  letter 
with  my  own  hands  inter  her  own  hands,"  said  Taters, 
stoutly. 

"Well,  come  along,  for  a  fool!  You're  a  purty  looking 
objick  to  denounce  into  the  parlor!  an't  you,  now?"  said 
Jerome,  leading  the  way. 

At  that  moment,  unseen  by  Jerome,  but  distinctly  seen 
by  Taters,  a  face  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  for  an 
instant;  but,  meeting  the  eye  of  Taters,  turned  white  as 
death  and  vanished. 

Taters  uttered  a  terrible  cry,  and  sank,  ashen  pale  and 
quaking  with  horror,  at  the  foot  of  the  steps. 

"Why,  what  in  the  name  of  the  Old  Boy  is  the  matter 


14  VICTOR^S  TRIUMPH 

with  yon,  man  ?  Have  you  trod  on  a  nail  or  piece  of  glass, 
or  anything  that  has  gone  through  your  foot?  or  what  is 
it?"  demanded  Jerome,  in  astonishment. 

"Oh,  no,  no,  no,  it's  worse'n  that!  It's  worse'n  that ! 
It's  no  end  worse'n  that !  Oh,  Lor  !  Oh,  Lor !  Oh,  Ix)r  !" 
cried  Taters,  holding  his  knees  and  sawing  backward  and 
forward  in  an  agony  of  horror. 

"Ef  you  don't  stop  that  howlin'  and  tell  me  what's  the 
matter  of  you,  I'm  blessed  ef  I  don't  get  a  bucket  of  ice- 
water  and  heave  it  all  over  you  to  fetch  you  to  your  senses !" 
exclaimed  the  exasperated  Jerome. 

"Oh,  Lor!  don't!  Oh,  please  don't!  I  shill  die  quick 
enough  now  without  that!"  cried  Taters,  writhing  hor- 
ribly. 

"What's  the  matter,  you  born  iddiwut?"  roared  Jerome, 
in  a  fury. 

"Oh,  I've  seen  a  sperrit!  I've  seen  a  sperrit !  I've  seen 
the  sperrit  of  my  young  mistress !  And  it's  a  token  of  my 
death !"  wailed  the  negro  boy  in  agony. 

"What's  that  you  say?  A  sperrit?  A  sperrit  in  this  yer 
'spectable,  'sponsible  house?  Lookee  here,  nigger;  mind 
what  you  say  now,  or  it'll  be  the  wus  for  you !  A  sperrit 
in  this  yer  ginteel  family  as  never  has  a  crime  or  a  ghost 
inter  it!  The  Cavendishers  nebber  'mits  no  crimes  when 
der  living,  nor  likewise  don't  walk  about  ondecent  arter 
der  dead.  And  der  an't  no  sperrits  here,"  said  Jerome, 
with  ire. 

"Oh,  I  wish  it  wasn't !  I  wish  it  wasn't !  But  it  was  a 
sperrit.  And  it's  a  token  of  my  death !  It's  a  token  of  my 
death !"  howled  Taters. 

And  now  at  last  the  noise  brought  three  young  ladies 
out  of  the  drawing-room. 

"What  is  the  matter  here,  Jerome  "  inquired  Miss  Cav- 
endish.   "Has  any  one  got  hurt?    Who  is  that  man?" 

"Ef  you  please.  Miss  Emma,  no  one  an't  eot  hurt,  though 
you  might  a  thought,  from  the  squealing,  that  theie  w£b 
a  dozen  pigs  a-killin'.  And  that  man,  miss,  is  a  born  iddi- 
\n;T,  so  he  is — begging  your  pardon,  miss — and  says  he's 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  15 

seed  a  sperrit  in  this  yer  harristocraterick  house,  where 
there  never  was  a  sperrit  yet/'  explained  Jerome,  with  a 
grieved  and  indignant  look. 

Miss  Cavendish  passed  by  the  privileged  old  family  ser- 
vant, and  went  up  to  the  man  himself,  and  inquired : 

"Who  are  you?  What  brings  you  here?  And  what  ails 
you?'' 

"Oh,  miss!  I'm  Taters,  I  am.  And  I  come  to  fetch  a 
Jetter  from  Marse  Jack  Lytton  to  Miss  Lorrer.  And  I 
seen  a  sperrit  at  the  top  o'  them  stair  steps.  And  that's 
what's  the  matter  of  me,"  cried  the  boy. 

"A  spirit!  Jerome,  do  you  think  he's  been  drinking?" 
inquired  the  young  lady,  in  a  low,  frightened  voice. 

For  an  answer,  Jerome,  without  the  least  hesitation, 
seized  Taters  by  the  head,  pulled  open  his  jaws  and  stuck 
his  own  nose  into  the  cavity  and  took  an  audible  snuff. 
Then  releasing  the  head,  he  answered : 

"No,  miss,  he  an't  been  drinking  nuffin'.  His  breff's  as 
sweet  as  a  milch  cow's.  I  reckon  he  must  be  subjick  to  ep- 
perliptic  fits,  by  the  way  he  fell  down  here  all  of  a  sudden, 
crying  out  as  he'd  seen  a  sperrit." 

"You  said  you  had  a  letter,  boy.  Where  is  it?"  inquired 
Emma. 

"  Here,  miss !  Here  it  is  !  I'll  give  it  to  you,  though  I 
wouldn't  give  it  to  him  there!"  answered  Taters,  with  a 
contemptuous  glance  toward  Jerome. 

Emma  took  the  letter,  which  was  inclosed  in  a  wonder- 
fully dingy  yellow  envelope,  and  she  read  the  superscrip- 
tion, and  then  called  to  Laura,  saying : 

"Come  here,  my  dear.  Here  is  a  letter  from  Lytton 
Lodge  for  you." 

Laura  Lytton,  who,  with  Electra,  had  been  standing 
Just  within  the  drawing-room  door,  near  enough  to  ob- 
serve the  group,  but  not  to  hear  the  whole  of  their  con- 
versation, now  came  when  she  was  called,  and  received  her 
letter. 

"It's  from  dear  Uncle  Jacky,"  she  said,  with  an  affec- 
tionate smile,  as  she  recognized  the  handwriting. 


16  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

And  then  she  asked  the  messenger  a  multitude  of  ques- 
tions, which  he  was  too  much  agitated  to  answer  coher- 
ently, until  at  length  Miss  Cavendish  said : 

"Jerome,  take  the  poor  fellow  into  the  kitchen  and  give 
him  something  to  eat  and  drink.  There  is  nothing  like 
beef  and  beer  to  exorcise  evil  spirits.  And  when  he  is 
rested  and  refreshed  we  will  see  him  again." 

And  Jerome  took  Taters  rather  roughly  by  the  shoulder 
and  pulled  him  upon  his  feet,  and  carried  him  along  the 
hall  through  the  back  door  toward  the  kitchen. 

"Will  you  excuse  me  now,  dear  Emma,  while  I  read  my 
uncle's  letter?'^  inquired  Laura,  as  she  retreated  to  the 
drawing-room. 

"Certainly,"  smiled  Miss  Cavendish,  following  her 
guests. 

Laura  went  into  the  recess  of  a  bay  window  and  opened 
the  dingy  yellow  envelope,  and  read  as  follows : 

Lytton"  Lodge,  April  — ,  18 — . 

"My  Dear  Niece:  1  think  my  nephew,  Alden,  has  a 
more  correcter  ide^r  of  what  is  jue  to  kin  and  kith  than 
what  you  have  shown. 

"Alden  is  spending  his  Easter  holida3's  along  of  me  and 
his  relations. 

"But  you  haven't  been  nigh  the  house  since  you  left  it  to 
go  to  school.  You  do  seem  to  be  so  wrapped  up  in  the 
Cavendishers  as  not  to  think  anything  of  your  own  folks. 

"Now  I  can  tell  you  what  it  is.  The  Lyttonses  are  a 
great  deal  older  and  better  family  than  all  the  Cavendishers 
that  ever  lived.  I  don't  care  if  they  was  governors  of  the 
State. 

"I  have  heard  my  grandfather,  who  was  a  scholar,  say 
that  the  Lyttonses  was  landed  gentry  in  the  old  country 
long  before  the  Cavendishers  followed  of  their  lord  and 
marster  William  the  Conkerer  across  tlie  channil.  And  so 
I  don't  approve  of  your  sliting  of  the  Lyttonses  for  them 
there  Cavendishers.    Spesherly  as  you're  a  Lytton  yourself. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  17 

And  if  we  don't  respect  ourselves  and  each  other,  no  one 
an't  a  going  to  respect  ns. 

"But  what  I'm  a  writing  to  you  for,  my  dear,  now,  is 
this.  I  think  you  ought  to  come  to  see  us,  anyhow.  You 
must  come,  if  it's  only  for  two  or  three  days,  to  see  your 
old  grandmother,  and  all  your  relations,  and  to  meet  Alden, 
who  is  here,  as  I  said.  I  have  sent  Taters  on  horseback  with 
a  led  horse  and  a  side-saddle  for  you.  Come  back  along  of 
him  to-morrow  morning.  And  give  my  honorable  compli- 
ments to  the  old  Madam  and  Miss  Cavendish.  Because, 
mind  you,  I'm  not  a  saying  as  the  Cavendishers  an't  a 
good,  respectabil  family;  only  I  do  say  as  they  are  not  so 
good  as  the  L}i;tonses,  and  they  never  was,  and  never  will 
be;  and  tliey  know  it  themselves,  too.  Well,  your  dear 
grandma,  and  your  dear  aunties  and  cousins  all  sends  their 
love  to  you,  with  many  good  wishes.  So  no  more  at  pres- 
ent from  your  affeckshunit  uncle,  John  Lytton." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  GHOST  SEEN  BY  "TATERS'* 

In  the  meantime,  Mithridates,  eating  beef  and  bread, 
and  drinking  homemade  sweet  cider  in  the  kitchen,  recov- 
ered some  of  his  composure,  though  still,  with  his  mouth 
full  of  meat  and  his  eyes  starting  from  his  head,  he  per- 
sisted that  he  had  seen  the  spirit  of  his  young  mistress. 
And  it  was  a  token  of  his  death. 

"I  don't  believe  one  word  of  it.  You're  a  making  of  it 
all  up,  out'n  your  own  stoopid  head !  There,  now,  ef  you're 
done  eatin',  you'd  better  go  'long  and  put  up  your  bosses," 
said  Aunt  Moll,  seeing  her  guest  pause  in  his  gastronomic 
efforts. 

But  "Taters"  hadn't  done  eating,  and  didn't  get  done 
until  all  the  dishes  on  the  kitchen  table  were  cleared  and 
the  jug  of  cider  emptied. 


18  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Then,  indeed,  he  gave  over  and  went  out  to  look  after 
his  "beasts." 

At  the  same  hour  Mary  Grey,  locked  fast  in  her  room, 
suffered  agonies  of  terror  and  anxiety.  She,  too,  had  seen 
a  '^ghosf — a  ghost  of  her  past  life!  a  ghost  that  might 
have  come  to  summon  her  from  her  present  luxurious  home. 

On  her  way  downstairs  to  the  drawing-room  she  had 
been  arrested  on  the  head  of  the  middle  landing  by  the 
sight  of  a  once  familiar  face  and  form. 

She  met  the  distended  eyes  of  this  apparition,  and  saw 
at  once  that  he  had  recognized  her,  as  surely  as  she  had 
recognized  him. 

And  in  an  instant  she  vanished. 

She  darted  into  her  own  room  and  locked  the  door,  and 
sank  breathless  into  the  nearest  chair. 

z\nd  there  she  sat  now,  with  beating  heart  and  burning 
head,  waiting  for  what  should  come  next. 

A  rap  at  the  door  was  the  next  thing  that  came. 

It  frightened  her,  of  course — ever3i;hing  frightened  her 
now. 

"^Vllo  is  that?"  she  nervously  inquired. 

"Only  me,  ma'am.  The  ladies  are  waiting  luncheon  for 
you.  Miss  Emma  sends  her  compliments,  and  says  will 
you  come  down  ?"  spoke  the  voice  of  Sarah,  the  lady's  maid. 

"Love  to  Miss  Cavendish,  and  ask  her  to  excuse  me.  I 
do  not  want  any  luncheon,"  answered  Mary  Grey,  without 
opening  the  door. 

Then  she  sank  back  in  her  chair  with  throbbing  pulses, 
waiting  for  the  issue  of  this  crisis.  She  was  really  ill  with 
intense  anxiety  and  dread.  She  grew  so  weak  at  last  that 
she  lay  down  upon  the  sofa. 

Then  came  another  rap  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  that?"  she  asked  again,  faintly. 

"It  is  I,  dear,"  answered  the  voice  of  Emma  Cavendish. 

Mrs.  Grey  arose  trembling,  and  opened  the  door. 

"I  was  afraid  that  you  were  not  well.  I  came  up  to 
see,"  said  Emma,  kindly,  as  she  entered  the  room. 

"I — think  I  have  taken  cold.    But  by  keeping  my  room 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  19 

for  a  few  days  I  hope  to  be  better.  A  cold  always  affects 
the  action  of  my  heart,  and  makes  me  very  nervous,"  said 
Mary  Grey,  in  explanation  of  the  tremors  for  which  she 
could  not  otherwise  account. 

Then  Emma  expressed  sympathy  and  sorrow,  and  begged 
the  pretended  invalid  to  have  some  tea  and  cream  toast, 
or  some  wine  whey  or  chicken  broth. 

Presently  Miss  Cavendish  said: 

"I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  that  we  shall  lose  Laura  Lytton 
for  a  few  days.  Her  uncle,  Mr.  L3^tton,  of  Lytton  Lodge, 
has  sent  a  messenger  for  her.  She  goes  to  visit  her  rela- 
tions there  to-morrow  morning." 

"Indeed!  a  messenger?"  exclaimed  Mary  Grey,  pricking 
up  her  ears. 

"Yes,  a  queer  genius,  who  signalized  his  entrance  by 
suddenly  falling  down  in  the  front  hall  in  a  spasm  of  ter- 
ror, declaring  that  he  had  seen  the  spirit  of  his  young  mis- 
tress on  the  middle  landing  of  the  front  stairs." 

"An  optical  illusion,"  answered  Mary  Grey,  in  a  low, 
tremulous  tone,  and  with  her  face  carefully  kept  in  the 
Bhadow. 

"Of  course.  And  it  appears  that  he  was  once  a  servant 
of  that  reckless  and  unlucky  Frederick  Fanning  of  White 
Perch  Point,  who  married  my  mother's  sister.  And  con- 
sequently his  young  mistress  must  have  been  that  unfor- 
tunate cousin  of  mine,"  said  Emma,  with  a  sigh. 

"Does  any  one  know  whatever  became  of  that  wretched 
girl?"  inquired  Mrs.  Grey,  in  a  very  low  tone. 

"No;  but  I  gather  from  the  wild  talk  of  the  boy  that 
she  is  supposed  to  be  dead.  It  was  her  spirit  that  he  thinks 
he  saw." 

"Whatever  became  of  her  father  and  mother?"  ques- 
tioned Mary  Grey  in  the  same  low  tone,  and  still  keeping 
her  face  in  the  deep  shadow. 

"I  do  not  know.  I  heard  that  they  went  to  California. 
I  have  not  heard  anything  of  them  since.  But,  my  dear, 
you  are  talking  beyond  your  strength.  Your  voice  is  quite 
faint,  scarcely  audible,  indeed.     Now  I  advise  you  to  lie 


20  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

down  and  be  quiet,"  said  Miss  Cavendish,  with  som* 
solicitude. 

And  then  she  kissed  Mary  Grey,  begged  her  to  ring  for 
anything  she  might  require,  and  then  she  left  the  room. 

And  Mary  Grey  heard  no  more  of  the  ghost.  That  cloud 
passed  harmlessly  over  her  head. 


CHAPTER  V 

A  VISIT  TO  LYTTON  LODGE 

Early  the  next  morning  Laura  Lytton  started  out  to 
visit  her  friends  at  Lytton  Lodge. 

The  woods  and  fields  were  clothed  with  the  freshest 
green;  the  mountain  tops  beamed  in  the  most  beautiful 
opal  tints  and  the  blue  sky  was  without  a  cloud. 

Laura  enjo^^ed  her  drive  very  much. 

At  Wendover  they  stopped  to  rest  and  water  the  horses, 
and  then  they  resumed  their  journey  and  went  on  to  Lyt- 
ton Lodge,  where  they  arrived  just  about  noon. 

John  Lytton  was  evidently  on  the  lookout  for  his  niece, 
for  as  the  pony  carriage  drove  up,  amid  the  barking  of  all 
the  dogs,  and  the  shouting  of  all  the  little  negroes,  he 
rushed  out  of  the  house,  throwing  up  his  arms;  and  he 
caught  Laura  and  lifted  her  bodily  from  her  seat,  roaring 
his  welcome. 

And  Laura,  as  she  returned  his  honest,  hearty  greeting, 
felt  a  twinge  of  self-reproach  in  remembering  with  what 
reluctance  she  had  come. 

Uncle  John  took  her  into  the  house  and  set  her  down  in 
the  hall  in  the  midst  of  all  her  relations,  who  had  crowded 
there  to  welcome  her. 

^^Lor-lor-lor,  John!  How  dare  you  ma-ma-make  so  free 
AS  that  with  Laura,  and  she  a  young  'oman?"  exclaimed 
old  Mrs.  Lytton,  as,  in  her  well-known  faded  calico  gown 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  21 

and  long-eared  muslin  cap,  she  came  np  and  kis?e<l  her 
granddaughter. 

"Why,  because  she  is  a  young  'oman,  of  course,  and  not 
an  old  man,"  said  John,  saucily. 

""UTiy,  how  much  you  have  improved,  child  !'^  said  Miss 
Molly  Moss,  smiling  blandly. 

"Oh,  an't  she  though,  neither?"  exclaimed  Octy  and 
Ulky  in  a  breath,  as  they  seized  her  hands;  the  one  cling- 
ing to  her  right,  and  the  other  to  her  left. 

"Come,  now,  I  think  you  had  better  let  Laura  go  up- 
stairs and  take  off  her  bonnet  and  things.  Dinner's  all 
ready  to  go  on  the  table.  And  I  reckon  her  appetite  is 
ready  also.  And,  Jacky,  you  had  better  go  out  and  tell 
John  Brooks  to  put  up  and  feed  them  horses,"  said  prac- 
tical Aunt  Kitty,  as  she  took  and  faced  Laura  about  to- 
ward the  spare  bedroom  that  was  on  the  first  floor. 

"Uncle  wrote  me  that  my  brother  was  here.  But  I  don't 
see  him,"  said  Laura,  as  she  laid  off  her  bonnet. 

"No,  he  and  Charley  went  to  Perch  Point  fishing  yes- 
terday, intending  to  stay  all  night  and  come  back  this 
morning.    I  reckon  they'll  soon  be  here,"  said  Aunt  Kitty. 

Laura  washed  her  face  and  hands,  and  brushed  her  hair, 
and  put  on  a  clean  collar  and  cuffs,  and  declared  herself 
ready  to  join  the  family. 

Even  as  she  spoke  there  was  the  hilarious  bustle  of  an 
arrival  in  the  hall  outside. 

And  as  Laura  emerged  from  the  room  she  was  caught  in 
the  arms  of  her  brother  Alden. 

"My  darling  sister,  I  am  so  delighted  to  see  you!"  said 
the  young  man,  kissing  her  joyously. 

"So  am  I  to  see  you,  Alden,  dear.  But  why  didn't  you 
ae-cept  Mrs.  Cavendish's  invitation  to  come  and  join  our 
Easter  party  at  Blue  Cliffs?"  inquired  Laura. 

"My  dear,  because  I  thought  my  duty  called  me  here," 
gravely  replied  Alden. 

"But  for  a  day  or  two  you  might  have  joined  us,"  per- 
sisted Laura. 


22  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"No,"  said  Alden.  Then  turning  toward  his  red-headed 
flehing  comrade,  he  said : 

"Here's  Cousin  Charley  waiting  to  welcome  you,  Laura." 
And   Charley   Dytton,  blushing  and   stammering,   held 
out  his  hand  and  said : 

"How  do  you  do?     I  am  very  glad  to  see  you." 
"And  now  come  to  dinner/'  said  Aunt  Kitty,  opening 
the  dining-room  door. 

They  all  went  in  and  sat  down  to  as  fine  a  dinner  as  was 
ever  served  in  Blue  Cliff  Hall,  or  even  at  the  government 
house,  although  this  was  laid  on  a  rough  pine  table,  cov- 
ered with  a  coarse,  though  clean,  linen  tablecloth,  and  in 
a  room  where  the  walls  w^re  whitewashed  and  the  floors 
w^ere  bare. 


CHAPTER  VI 

A  FLIGHT  FROM  BLUE  CLIFFS 

Laura  Lytton  stayed  two  days  with  her  relatives  at  Lyt- 
ton  Lodge,  and  was  just  turning  over  in  her  mind  the 
difficult  subject  of  breaking  the  news  of  her  immediate  de- 
parture to  Uncle  Jacky,  whom  she  felt  sure  would  bitterly 
oppose  it,  when,  on  the  evening  of  the  second  day,  she  re- 
ceived a  surprise  in  the  form  of  a  call  from  Craven  Kyte. 

The  visitor  was  shown  into  the  big  parlor,  where  all  the 
family,  except  Alden  and  Charley,  were  assembled,  and 
engaged  in  cheerful  conversation  around  the  evening  lamp. 

He  came  in  bowing,  shook  hands  with  everybody,  and 
then  took  the  seat  that  was  offered  him,  and  drew  a  letter 
from  his  pocket,  saying  humorously : 

"In  these  latter  days,  when  every  one  has  a  mission,  it 
seems  to  me  that  my  mission  is  to  fetch  and  carry  letters. 
I  happened  to  call  at  Blue  Cliffs  this  morning,  and  to  men- 
tion while  there  that  I  was  going  to  White  Perch  Point, 
and  should  take  Lytton  Lodge  in  my  way,  and  would  carry 
any  message  that  was  desired  to  Miss  Laura  Lytton^  who  I 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  2S 

understood  was  on  a  visit  there.  And  then  Miss  Caven- 
dish requested  me  to  take  a  letter  to  you,  which  she  sat 
down  and  wrote  right  off  at  once.  And  here  it  is,  miss," 
he  concluded,  placing  the  letter  in  Laura's  hands. 

Laura  asked  leave  of  her  company,  and  then  opened  the 
envelope,  and  read  as  follows: 

"Blue  Cliffs,  Thursday  Afternoon. 

"My  Dearest  Laura:  The  opportune  arrival  of  Mr. 
Craven  Kyte,  on  his  way  to  White  Perch  Point  and  Lytton 
Lodge,  furnishes  me  with  the  means  of  communicating  with 
you  sooner  than  I  could  manage  to  do  by  mail. 

"You  will  be  very  mach  surprised  at  what  I  am  about 
to  tell  you. 

"Mary  Grey  has  left  Blue  Cliffs. 

"She  left  so  suddenly  that  I  scarcely  yet  can  realize  that 
she  has  gone. 

"My  grandmother  and  myself  opposed  her  departure 
most  earnestly.  We  used  every  means  in  the  world  but  ab- 
solute force  to  keep  her  here. 

"But  she  would  go.  She  said  her  health  and  spirits  re- 
quired the  change.  You  know  she  was  ailing  when  you 
left  here. 

"Well,  she  has  gone  to  Charlottesville,  where  she  says 
she  has  some  lady  friend  who  keeps  a  boarding-house  for- 
the  students  of  the  university.  So,  if  your  brother  returns 
to  the  university,  he  may  have  an  opportunity  of  renewing 
his  very  pleasant  acquaintance  with  her.  I  do  not  know 
when,  if  ever,  she  will  return. 

"  Of  course  this  is  her  home  whenever  she  pleases  to  come 
baok.  But  I  strongly  suspect  the  pretty  little  widow  has 
grown  tired  of  our  country  house. 

"You  know  she  has  really  no  resources  within  herself 
for  enjoyment.  She  cares  nothing  for  the  beautiful  scenery 
surrounding  our  home,  nor  for  gardening,  nor  reading,  nor 
visiting  and  instructing  the  poor  negroes;  or,  in  short,  for 
anything  that  makes  a  remote  country  place  enjoyable.  And 


24.  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

so  she  has  left  us — ^It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  for- 
ever/ as  the  song  says. 

''■  But,  my  darling,  don't  you  desert  me,  just  at  this  time. 
Come  back,  according  to  your  promise.  I  am  wearying  for 
you.  Tell  that  excessively  affectionate  and  hospitable 
Uncle  John  that  I  need  you  much  more  than  he  does.  Or 
show  him  this  letter.  All  the  L3i;tons  are  gallant  and 
chivalrous  gentlemen.  He  is  no  exception,  and  he  will  not 
oppose  my  wish,  I  feel  sure.  I  shall  expect  you  at  Blue 
Cliffs  to-morrow  evening. 

"My  grandmother  has  just  directed  me  to  repeat  her 
invitation  to  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  and  to  ask  him  to  accom- 
pany you  back  to  Blue  Cliffs  and  make  us  a  visit.  I  hope 
he  will  do  so.  Mind,  I  shall  expect  you  both  to-morrow 
evening.  Pray  present  my  respects  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lytton, 
and  all  their  kind  family.  And  believe  me,  dearest  Laura, 
ever  your  own.  Emma. 

"P.  S. — I  have  some  strange  news  to  tell  you  which  I 
cannot  trust  upon  paper.  I  also  expect  a  new  inmate  in  the 
famil}^    I  will  explain  when  you  come.  E." 

Laura  folded  her  letter,  and  put  it  into  her  pocket  for 
the  present. 

"They  want  you  to  come  back,  I  suppose,"  said  Uncle 
John,  testily. 

"I  will  show  you  the  letter  presently,  uncle;  so  you  can 
read  and  judge  for  yourself,"  said  Laura,  with  a  smile. 

"Well,  all  I  say  is  this :  If  they  want  you  to  come  back, 
want  will  be  their  master.  For  they  can't  have  you;  so 
there  now !  I  don't  mean  to  let  you  leave  us  until  you  are 
obliged  to  go  back  to  school.  I  don't  that!"  said  John, 
nodding  his  big  red  head. 

"Did  you  know  Mrs.  Grey  had  left  Blue  Cliffs?"  sor- 
rowfuily  inquired  Mr.  Kyte. 

"Yes.  Emma  has  written  to  me  about  her  departure. 
When  did  she  go?" 

"Early  this  morning.  When  I  got  to  the  house  I  was 
Tery  much   disappointed   at  not  seeing  her,  and   beyond 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  25 

measure  astoDished  to  hear  that  she  had  started  that  very 
morning  to  Wendover  to  catch  the  first  train  to  the  city, 
en  route  for  Charlottesville.  She  will  be  a  great  loss  to 
the  domestic  circle  at  Blue  Cliffs,  I  think." 

"And  who  the  mischief  is  Mrs.  Grey?"  inquired  the 
sorely  puzzled  Uncle  John. 

"She  was  one  of  the  assistant  teachers — the  drawing 
mistress,  in  fact — at  Mount  Ascension.  But  she  lost  her 
situation  there.  And  she  became  the  guest  of  Emma  Cav- 
endish. Afterward  she  was  engaged  to  Mr.  Cavendish. 
But  his  death  prevented  the  marriage,"  Laura  explained. 

And  at  this  point  of  the  conversation  "Mandy"  made 
her  appearance  at  the  door,  and  said  that  supper  was  on 
the  table. 

And  old  Mrs.  Lytton  arose  and  invited  the  company  to 
follow  her  to  the  dining-room. 

After  supper,  as  it  was  a  clear,  mild,  starlit  evening, 
Mr.  Craven  Kyte  remounted  his  horse  and  resumed  his 
journey  to  White  Perch  Point. 

After  his  departure,  when  the  family  were  once  more 
assembled  in  the  big  parlor,  Laura  took  her  letter  out  and 
put  it  in  the  hands  of  John  L^-tton. 

Uncle  Jacky  read  it  through,  and  then  quoted  a  part  of 
it  to  the  family  circle. 

"  ^Tell  ■'■hat  affectionate  and  hospitable  Uncle  John  that 
I  need  you  so  much  more  than  he  does.  Or  show  him 
this  letter.  All  the  Lyttons  are  gallant  and  chivalrous 
gentlemen.  He  is  no  exception.  And  he  will  not  oppose 
my  wish,  I  feel  sure.' 

"Now  that  is  what  I  call  taking  a  fellow  at  a  disadvan- 
tage !"  growled  John,  holding  the  letter  before  his  eyes 
and  staring  at  it.  "Well,  I  suppose  I  must  let  you  go, 
Laura,  and  Alden  may  go  also,  seeing  they  make  a  point 
of  that." 

So  the  matter  was  arranged,  snd  after  an  early  and 
substantial  dinner  Alden  and  Laura  took  leave  of  their 
kind  relatives  and  entered  the  pony  carriage,  whose  dash- 


86  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

ing  little  grays,  driven  by  old  Jerome,  were  to  take  them 
to  Blue  Cliffs. 

But  we  must  precede  them  thither,  to  find  out  what  it 
was  that  had  driven  Mary  Grey  from  the  house  in  such 
very  great  haste. 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  STARTLING  EVENT 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  very  same  day  that  saw 
the  departure  of  Laura  Lytton  for  Lytton  Lodge,  that 
Peter,  the  post  office  messenger  of  Blue  Cliffs,  returned 
from  Wendover,  bringing  with  him  a  well-filled  mailbag. 

He  took  it  into  the  drawing-room,  where  Miss  Cavendish 
and  her  guests,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones,  Miss  Electra  and  Mrs. 
Grey,  were  gathered  around  the  center-table,  under  the 
light  of  the  chandelier. 

Emma  Cavendish  unlocked  the  mailbag  and  turned  its 
contents  out  upon  the  table. 

"Newspapers  and  magazines  only,  I  believe.  No  letters. 
Help  yourselves,  friends.  There  are  paper  knives  on  the 
pen  tray.  And  in  the  absence  of  letters,  there  is  a  real 
pleasure  in  unfolding  a  fresh  newspaper  and  cutting  the 
leaves  of  a  new  magazine,"  said  the  young  lady,  as  she 
returned  the  empty  bag  to  the  messenger. 

But  her  companions  tumbled  over  the  mail  still,  in  tiie 
vain  hope  of  finding  letters. 

"None  for  me;  yet  I  did  hope  to  get  one  from  my  new 
manager  at  Beresford  Manors,"  muttered  Dr.  Jones,  in  a 
tone  of  disappointment. 

"x\nd  none  for  me,  either,  though  I  do  think  the  girls 
at  Mount  Ascension  might  write  to  me,"  pouted  Electra. 

"And,  of  course,  there  are  none  for  me.  There  never 
are.  No  one  ever  writes  to  me.  The  poor  have  no  cor- 
respondents. I  did  not  expect  a  letter,  and  I  am  not  dis- 
appointed," murmured  Mary   Grey,  with  that  charming 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  27 

expression,  I  ^tween  a  smile  and  a  sigh,  that  she  always 
found  so  effective. 

'•Well,  there  is  no  letter  for  any  one,  it  seems,  so  none 
of  us  havt  cause  to  feel  slighted  by  fortune  more  than 
others,"  added  Emma  Cavendish,  cheerfully. 

But  Peter,  the  post  office  boy,  looked  from  one  to  the 
other,  with  his  black  eyes  growing  bigger  and  bigger,  as 
he  felt  with  his  hand  in  the  empty  mailbag,  and  ex- 
claimed : 

"I  'clar's  to  de  law  der  was  a  letter  for  some  uns.  Miss 
Emer,  ^cause  I  see  de  pos'marser  put  it  in  de  bag  wid  his 
own  hands,  which  it  were  a  letter  wid  a  black  edge,  all 
round  de  outside  of  it,  and  a  dob  o'  black  tar,  or  some- 
think,  on  to  the  middle  of  the  back  of  it." 

x\s  the  boy  spoke  the  Eev.  Dr.  Jones  began  again  to 
turn  over  the  magazines  and  newspapers  until  he  found 
the  letter,  that  had  slipped  between  the  covers  of  the  Ediri' 
horo*  Review. 

"It  is  for  you,  my  dear,"  he  said,  as  he  passed  the  mis- 
sive across  the  table  to  Miss  Cavendish. 

"I  wonder  from  whom  it  comes?  The  handwriting  is 
quite  unfamiliar  to  me.  And  the  postmark  is  Xew  York, 
where  I  have  no  correspondents  whatever,"  said  Emma 
in  surprise,  as  she  broke  the  black  seal. 

"Oh,  may  be  it's  a  circular  from  some  merchant  who 
has  heard  of  the  great  Alleghany  heiress,"  suggested 
Electra. 

"You  will  permit  me?"  said  Emma,  glancing  at  her 
companions  as  she  unfolded  her  letter. 

And  then,  as  one  and  another  nodded  and  smiled  and 
returned  to  their  magazines  and  papers,  Emma  Caven- 
dish glanced  at  the  signature  of  her  strange  letter,  started 
with  surprise,  gazed  at  it  a  second  time  more  attentively, 
and  then  turned  hurriedly  and  began  to  read  it. 

And  as  she  read  her  face  paled  and  flushed,  and  she 
glanced  from  time  to  time  at  the  faces  of  her  companions ; 
but  they  were  all  engaged  with  pamphlets  and  papers,  ex- 


28  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

cept  Mrs.   Grey,  whom  Emma  perceived  to  be  furtively 
watching  her. 

The  strange  letter  was  written  in  rather  a  wild  and 
rambling  style  of  composition,  as  if  the  writer  t  ere  a  little 
brain  sick.    It  ran  as  follows: 

"Blank  Hotel,  New  York  City,  April  27th,  18—. 

"My  Dear  Miss  Cavendish:  Our  near  blood  relation- 
ship might  warrant  me  in  addressing  you  as  my  dear  Emma. 
But  I  refrain,  because  you  would  not  understand  the  fa- 
miliarity any  more  than  you  recognize  this  handwriting, 
which  must  seem  as  strange  to  you  as  my  face  would  seem, 
if  I  were  to  present  myself  bodily  before  you. 

"  For  you  have  never  set  your  eyes  upon  me,  and  perhaps 
have  never  even  lieard  my  name  mentioned,  or  my  existence 
alluded  to. 

"And  yet  I  am  one  of  your  family,  near  of  kindred  to 
yourself;  in  fact,  your  own  dear  mother's  only  sister, 

"If  you  ever  heard  of  me  at  all,  you  must  have  heard  of 
the  wilful  love  marriage  which  separated  me  from  all  my 
family. 

"'  Since  that  ill-omened  marriage,  an  unbroken  succession 
of  misfortunes  have  attended  my  husband  and  myself  until 
they  culminated  in  the  most  crushing  calamity  of  our  lives 
— the  loss  of  our  dear  and  only  daughter  in  a  manner  worse 
than  death. 

"Soon  after  that  awful  bereavement,  our  creditors  fore- 
closed the  mortgage  on  our  estate  at  White  Perch  Point, 
and  sold  the  place  over  our  heads. 

"And  my  poor  husband  and  myself  went  out  to  Cali- 
fornia, childless  and  almost  penniless,  to  begin  life  anew. 

"We  began  in  a  very  humble  way  indeed.  As  he  was 
familiar  with  hotel  business,  he  got  a  place  as  a  bartender 
in  a  San  Francisco  hotel;  and  soon  afterward  I  got  a 
place  in  the  same  house,  to  look  after  and  keep  in  repair 
the  bed  and  table  linen.  And  we  lodged  in  the  hotel,  in 
a  small  attic  chamber  and  took  our  meals  in  the  pantry. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  29 

"But  we  were  both  utterly  broken  down  in  mind  and 
body,  as  well  as  in  estate. 

"He  soon  sank  into  a  consumption,  and  had  to  give  up 
his  place.  I  hired  a  room  in  a  small  house,  and  took  him 
to  it.  I  still  retained  my  place  at  the  hotel,  because  my 
salary  there  was  the  only  support  we  had.  But  I  lived 
there  no  longer.  I  used  to  go  in  the  morning,  make  the 
daily  inspection  of  the  linen,  and  bring  home  what  needed 
mending ;  and  working  all  the  afternoon  and  half  the  night 
at  my  husband's  bedside. 

"  But  rent  and  food  and  fuel,  physic  and  physicians'  fees 
were  very  costly  in  San  Francisco.  And  with  all  my  work 
I  fell  deeper  and  deeper  into  debt. 

"At  length  my  poor  husband  died.  And  it  took  the 
proceeds  of  our  little  personal  effects  to  pay  for  the  hum- 
blest sort  of  funeral. 

"x\nd  I  was  left  entirely  destitute.  Then  my  courage 
gave  way.  I  wept  myself  so  blind  that  I  could  no  longer 
mend  the  linen  at  the  hotel,  or  even  see  whether  it  wanted 
mending.  Then  I  fell  sick  with  sorrow,  and  had  to  be 
taken  to  the  hospital. 

•"  At  the  end  of  three  months  I  was  dismissed.  But  where 
could  I  go  ?  What  could  I  do,  broken  in  health  and  nearly 
blind  as  I  was  ? 

"  I  must  have  perished  then  and  there  but  for  the  timely 
assistance  of  a  young  gold-digger  who  happened  to  hear 
about  me  when  he  came  up  to  the  city  from  his  distant 
mining  camp. 

"He  was  a  very  queer  young  man,  whom  his  few  friends 
called  crazy  on  account  of  his  lonely  and  ascetic  manner  of 
life,  and  his  lavish  liberality. 

"He  sought  me  out  to  relieve  my  wants.  And  upon  me 
telling  him  that  all  I  wanted  was  to  go  home  to  die,  he 
bought  me  a  whole  stateroom  to  myself  in  the  first  cabin 
of  the  Golden  City,  bound  from  San  Francisco  to  New 
York.  And  then  he  bought  me  an  outfit  in  clothing,  good 
enough  for  a  duke's  widow.     And  he  gave  me  a  sum  of 


80  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

money  besides,  and  started  me  fairly  and  comfortably  on 
my  voyage. 

"I  reached  New  York  three  days  ago.  Bnt  my  strength 
continues  to  fail  and  my  funds  to  waste.  I  have  no  power 
to  work,  even  if  I  could  procure  anything  to  do.  And  I 
have  not  money  enough  to  support  me  a  month  longer. 

"I  do  not  like  to  go  into  an  almshouse.  Yet  what  am 
I  to  do? 

"But  why  do  I  write  to  you?  you  may  naturally  inquire. 

"Why?  Because,  although  a  perfect  stranger,  you  are 
after  all,  my  niece,  my  only  sister's  only  child,  my  own 
only  blood  relation.    And  T)lood  is  thicker  than  water.' 

"  'I  cannot  work.    To  beg  I  am  ashamed.' 

"I  do  not  therefore  beg,  even  of  you.  I  do  not  so  much 
as  make  any  suggestion  to  you.  I  tell  you  the  facts  of  the 
case,  and  I  leave  you  to  act  upon  them,  or  to  ignore  them 
entirely,  at  your  pleasure. 

"I  do  not  even  know  whether  I  may  venture  to  sign  my- 
self your  aunt.  Katherine  Fanning. " 

Emma  Cavendish  read  this  letter  through  to  the  end. 
Then  she  glanced  at  her  companions,  who  were  still  all 
absorbed  in  the  perusal  of  their  journals. 

Even  Mrs.  Grey  was  now  lost  in  a  magazine ;  but  it  was 
Les  Modes  de  Paris,  and  contained  plates  and  descriptions 
of  all  the  new  spring  fashions. 

So  Miss  Cavendish,  seeing  her  friends  all  agreeably  oe- 
cupied  and  amused,  returned  to  her  singular  letter,  and 
recommenced  and  read  it  carefully  through  to  the  end 
once  more. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  second  reading  she  looked  to- 
ward the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones. 

"Forgive  me  for  interrupting,  but  I  should  like  you  to 
read  this,  sir,"  said  Miss  Cavendish,  putting  her  letter  in 
the  hands  of  her  uncle. 

He  took  it  and  read  it  slowly  through,  muttering  from 
time  to  time. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  31 

"Dear^  dear,  how  distressing!  Bless  my  soul  alive! 
Well !  well !  well !" 

And  he  glanced  uneasily  at  Mary  Grey,  who  fidgeted 
and  flushed  under  his  observation. 

At  length  he  finished  and  folded  the  letter,  and  returned 
M  to  Miss  Cavendish,  with  the  inquiry : 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  are  you  going  to  do  in  the  prem- 
ises ?" 

"I  shall  write  immediately  and  ask  my  aunt  to  come 
heve  and  make  this  her  home,"  answered  Emma,  promptly. 

At  these  words  Mary  Grey  started,  caught  her  breath 
with  a  gasp,  and  quickly  whirled  her  chair  around  so  as 
^  bring  her  back  to  the  light  and  throw  her  face  in  deep 
shadow. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  inquired  Electra. 

"The  light  makes  my  eyes  ache.  That  is  all.  You  know 
1  have  not  quite  got  rid  of  my  cold  yet,"  answered  the 
widow,  in  a  low,  faltering  tone,  that  might  have  attracted 
the  attention  of  Miss  Cavendish  had  not  that  young  lad}^s 
thoughts  been  engaged  with  the  subject  of  her  letter. 

"You  will  consult  your  gvandmother  before  making  this 
important  addition  to  the  household,  I  presume,"  inquired 
"ihe  old  gentleman. 

"Yes,  of  course;  but  I  am  certain  beforehand  of  my 
dear  grandma's  consent  and  co-operation  in  such  an  evi- 
dent Christian  duty,"  answered  Miss  Cavendish. 

And  then  she  turned  to  her  young  friends,  to  whom 
she  thought  some  explanation  was  due,  and  she  added : 

"I  have  news  in  this  letter  that  has  much  surprised  and 
pained  me.  It  is  from  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Fanning.  She  has 
lost  her  husband,  and  has  suffered  ^ery  severe  reverses  of 
for^ane.  She  is  at  this  time  alone  in  New  York  City,  and 
in  failing  health.  I  shall  write  for  her  to  come  and  live 
with  us.  And  not  to  leave  her  a  day  in  suspense,  I  shall 
telegraph  from  Wendover  to-morrow  morning." 

"I'm  glad  she's  coming.  The  more  the  merrier,"  said 
Electra,  gayly. 


S^  VICTOR'S  TRroMPH 

Mrs.  Grey  said  nothing.  She  arose  as  if  to  leave  the 
room,  tottered  forward  and  fell  to  the  floor  in  a  dead 
Ewoon. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  SIREN  AND  THE  SAGE 

TLlJj  started  to  their  feet  and  rushed  to  her  assistance. 

She  was  but  a  slight  creature.  And  Dr.  Jones  lifted 
Eer  easily  and  laid  her  on  one  of  the  sofas. 

Electra  flew  upstairs  to  bring  down  a  bottle  of  Florida 
"water. 

Emma  patted  and  rubbed  her  hands. 

Dr.  Jones  bathed  her  brow  with  cold  water,  sighing  and 
muttering  to  himself: 

"Poor  girl!    Poor,  unfortunate  girl!" 

"I  take  blame  to  myself,"  said  Emma.  "She  is  evi- 
dently much  iller  than  I  thought.  I  ought  not  to  have 
persuaded  her  to  leave  her  room  so  soon  after  her  cold. 
It  is  my  fault." 

At  that  instant  Electra  ran  in  with  the  Florida  water, 
and  dashed  a  liberal  portion  of  it  over  the  head  and  face 
of  the  fainting  woman. 

The  shock  and  the  penetrating  odor  combined  to  rouse 
her  from  insensibility.  And  with  a  few  gasps  she  recov- 
ered her  consciousness;  though  her  face,  after  one  sudden 
flush,  settled  into  a  deadly  paleness. 

"My  poor  dear,  how  are  you?"  inquired  Emma  Caven- 
dish, kindly. 

"Dying,  I  think.  Dying,  I  hope.  Let  some  one  help 
^e  to  my  room,"  she  murmured. 

Dr.  Jones  at  once  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  bore  her 
upstairs,  preceded  by  Electra,  who  flew  on  before  to  show 
the  way  to  Mary  Grey's  room,  and  followed  by  Emma 
Cavendish,  who  still  blamed  herself  for  the  invalid's  sup- 
posed relapse. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  33 

Dr.  Jones  laid  her  on  her  bed,  and  was  about  to  leave 
her  to  the  care  of  Emma  and  Electra,  when  she  seized  his 
hand  and  drew  him  down  to  her  face  and  said : 

"I  wish  to  speak  to  you  for  a  moment  now.  Send  Miss 
Cavendish  and  Miss  Coroni  out  of  her  room  for  a  little 
while." 

"My  dear  children,  go  away  for  a  moment.  Mrs.  Grey 
wishes  to  speak  to  me  alone,"  said  Dr.  Jones. 

And  Emma  and  Electra  softly  retired,  with  the  belief 
that  Mary  Grey  only  wished  to  consult  the  minister  on 
religious  subjects. 

As  soon  as  the  door  was  closed  behind  them  Mary  Grey 
seized  the  old  man's  hand,  and,  fixing  her  great  black  eyes 
fiercely  upon  him,  demanded : 

"Do  they  suspect?" 

"No,  certainly  not." 

"Did  you  drop  no  word  during  my  swoon  that  might 
have  led  them  to  suspect?" 

"iSTot  one  syllable." 

"I  thank  you,  then,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  long  sigh  of 
relief. 

"But,  my  child,  was  that  all  you  wished  to  talk  to  me 
about?" 

"  That  was  all,  except  this :  to  beg  you  still  to  be  silent 
as  the  grave  in  regard  to  my  identity." 

"My  child,  your  words  disappoint  and  grieve  me.  I  did 
hope  that  you  asked  this  private  interview  with  the  design 
to  consult  me  about  the  propriety  of  making  yourself 
known." 

"Making  myself  known !"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  half-sup- 
pressed shriek,  as  she  started  up  upon  her  elbow  and  stared 
at  the  speaker.    "Making  myself  known  !" 

"The  opportunity,  my  dear  child,  is  such  an  excellent 
one.  And,  of  course,  you  know  that  if  Mrs.  Fanning  comes 
here,  as  she  must — for  there  is  no  other  refuge  open  to  her 
— if  she  comes  and  finds  you  here,  discovery  is  inevitable." 

"But  she  will  not  find  me  here !  She  shall  not !  I  could 
not  look  her  in  the  face.    Sooner  than  do  that,  I  will  hurl 


34  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

myself  from  tlie  turnpike  bridge  into  the  Mad  River  !^^  she 
fiercely  exclaimed. 

"My  child,  do  not  talk  so  wickedly.  It  is  frightful  to 
hear  such  things !"  cried  the  old  man,  shuddering. 

"You  will  see  such  things  if  you  do  not  mind.  I  am 
quite  capable  of  doing  what  I  said,  for  I  am  tired  and  sick 
of  this  life  of  constant  dependence,  mortification  and  ter- 
ror— an  insupportable  life!"  she  wildly  exclaimed. 

"Because,  my  poor  girl,  it  is  a  life  of  cencealment,  m 
constant  dread  of  discovery,  and  the  humiliation  attending 
discovery.  Change  all  that,  and  your  life  will  be  happier. 
Trust  in  those  who  are  nearest  to  you,  and  make  yourself, 
your  name,  your  errors,  and  your  sufferings  and  repentance 
fully  known.  Emma  Cavendish  is  the  ruling  power  in  this 
house,  and  she  is  a  pure,  noble,  magnanimous  spirit.  She 
would  protect  you,"  pleaded  the  old  man,  taking  her  hand. 

"Oh,  yes,  she  is  all  that!  Do  you  think  that  makes  it 
any  easier  for  me  to  shock  her  with  the  story  of  my  own 
folly,  weakness  and  cowardice  ?  Oh,  no,  no !  I  could  not 
bear  the  look  of  her  clear,  truthful,  blue  eyes!  And  I 
would  not !  There  !  It  is  useless  to  talk  to  me.  Dr.  Jones. 
Tliere  are  some  things  that  I  cannot  do.  I  cannot  stay 
here!" 

"My  poor,  poor  child,  whither  will  yon  go?  Stay;  now 
I  think  of  it,  I  can  send  you  to  my  house  at  Beresford 
Manors.  That  shall  be  your  home,  if  you  will  accept  it. 
But  what  excuse  can  you  make  for  leaving  this  place  so 
abruptly?" 

"You  are  kind.  Dr.  Jones.  You  are  very  kind.  But  a 
moment's  reflection  will  teach  you  that  I  could  not  accent 
your  hospitality.  You  have  no  lady,  I  believe,  at  Beres- 
ford Manors?  No  one  there  except  the  colored  servants? 
Therefore,  you  see,  it  would  not  be  proper  for  me  to  go 
there,"  said  Mary  Grey,  affecting  a  prudery  that  she  did 
not  feel,  and  objecting  to  the  place  only  because  she  did 
not  choose  to  bury  herself  in  a  house  more  lonely,  dreary 
and  deserted,  if  possible,  than  Blue  Cliffs  Hall  itself. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  35 

"Then  where  can  you  go,  my  poor  girl?"  compassion- 
ately questioned  the  old  minister. 

"I  have  thought  of  that.  Sudden  as  this  emergency  is, 
I  am  not  quite  unprepared  for  it.  The  crisis  that  I  feared 
might  come,  has  come,  that  is  all.  Only  it  has  come  in  a 
far  different  manner  from  what  I  feared.  But  the  result 
must  be  the  same.  I  must  leave  the  house  immediately. 
And  you  must  help  to  smooth  my  way  toward  leaving  it." 

"But  whither  will  you  go,  poor,  shorn  lamb?" 

"I  have  planned  out  all  that,  in  view  of  this  very  con- 
tingency. I  will  go  to  Charlottesville,  where  I  have  a  lady 
friend  who  keeps  a  boarding-house  for  the  university  stu- 
dents. I  can  stay  with  her,  and  make  myself  useful,  in  re- 
turn for  board  and  lodging,  until  I  get  something  to  do 
for  a  living.  That  is  all  settled.  I  asked  you  for  this  in- 
terview only  to  satisfy  myself  that  no  hint  of  my  identity 
had  been  dropped,  and  no  suspicion  of  it  excited  during 
my  swoon,  and  further,  to  beg  you  to  keep  my  miserable 
secret  hereafter,  as  you  have  hitherto." 

"I  have  satisfied  you,  I  hope,  upon  all  those  subjects." 

"Yes;  and  I  thank  you." 

"But  still  I  cannot  abandon  the  hope  that  you  will  yet 
heed  good  counsel,  and  make  yourself  known  to  your  best 
friends,"  pleaded  the  old  man. 

But  Mary  Grey  shook  her  head. 

Dr.  Jones  coaxed,  argued,  lectured,  all  in  vain. 

At  length,  worn  out  by  his  importunities,  Mary  Grey,  to 
gain  her  own  ends,  artfully  replied : 

"Well,  dear,  good,  wise  friend,  if  ever  I  do  gain  cour- 
age to  make  myself  known  to  my  family,  I  must  do  it  from 
some  little  distance,  and  by  letter,  so  as  to  give  them  time 
to  get  over  the  shock  of  the  revelation,  before  I  could  dare 
to  face  them.  Think  of  it  yourself.  How  could  we  bear 
to  look  each  other  in  the  eyes  while  telling  and  hearing 
such  a  story  ?" 

"I  believe  you  are  right  so  far.  Yes,  in  that  view  of  the 
case,  it  is  perhaps  better  that  you  should  go  away  and 
then  write,"  admitted  Dr.  Jones. 


S6  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"And  you  will  aid  me  in  my  efforts  to  get  away  at  once, 
and  without  opposition  ?  Tell  them  that  it  is  better  for  my 
health  and  spirits  that  I  should  go  away  for  a  while,  and 
go  immediately;  as  it  really  is,  you  know-  Will  you  do 
this?" 

"Yes,  I  will  do  it,  in  the  hope  that  your  nervous  system 
may  be  strengthened,  and  you  may  find  courage  to  do  the 
duty  that  lies  before  you,"  said  the  doctor,  as  he  pressed 
her  hand  and  left  the  room. 

Dr.  Jones  went  downstairs  to  the  drawing-room,  where 
the  young  ladies  waited  in  anxious  suspense. 

Emma  Cavendish  arose  and  looked  at  him  in  silent 
questioning. 

"There  is  no  cause  for  alarm,  my  dear  Emma.  Your 
friend  will  do  very  well.  No,  you  need  not  go  up  to  her 
room.  She  requires  absolutely  nothing  but  to  be  left  to 
repose.  You  can  look  in  on  her,  if  you  like,  just  before 
you  go  to  bed.  That  will  be  time  enough,"  explained  Dr. 
Jones,  as  he  took  his  seat  at  the  table,  and  took  up  his 
Review  again,  as  if  nothing  had  happened  to  interrupt  his 
reading. 

The  next  day  old  Mrs.  Cavendish,  Electra,  and  in  fact 
the  whole  house,  were  thrown  into  a  state  of  consternation 
at  the  announcement  of  Mrs.  Grey's  immediate  departure. 

When  or  how  she  had  managed  to  get  her  personal  ef- 
fects together,  whether  she  had  kept  them  packed  up  for 
the  emergency,  or  whether  she  had  sat  up  all  night  to  pack 
them,  I  do  not  know ;  but  it  is  certain  that  by  seven  o'clock 
that  morning  she  had  three  enormous  Saratoga  trunks 
packed,  strapped,  and  locked  ready  for  the  wagon  that 
she  asked  for  to  take  them  to  the  railway  station. 

It  was  not  until  her  luggage  was  in  the  wagon,  and  the 
carriage  was  waiting  for  her  at  the  door,  and  she  herself 
in  her  traveling  suit  and  hat,  that  she  went  to  bid  the  old 
lady  good- by. 

Mrs.  Cavendish  had  been  informed  by  Emma  of  the  in- 
tended abrupt  departure  of  Mary  Grey,  and  she  had  be- 
gun to  oppose  it  with  all  her  might. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  37 

But  Emma  endeavored  to  convince  her  that  the  change 
was  vitally  necessary  to  Mary  Grey's  health  and  strength. 

So  now  when  the  traveler  entered  the  old  lady's  room, 
the  latter  feebly  arose  to  her  feet,  holding  on  to  the  arm 
of  her  chair,  while  she  faltered : 

"Mary,  Mary,  this  is  so  sudden,  so  shocking,  so  sor- 
rowful, that  I  almost  think  it  will  make  me  ill!  Why 
must  you  go,  my  dear  ?" 

"Sweet  mother!  May  I  call  you  so?  Sweet  mother,  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  did  not  like  to  tell  dear  Emma,  for 
fear  it  might  distress  her;  she  is  so  sensitive,  you  know!'^ 
murmured  the  siren,  sitting  down  and  tenderly  caressing 
the  old  lady. 

"Tell  me  then,  my  love,  tell  me  anything  you  like,"  said 
Mrs.  Cavendish,  weeping. 

"Well,  you  know  that  dear  old  lady  friend  in  Charlottes- 
ville, of  whom  I  spoke  to  you  a  week  or  so  ago?" 

"Ah,  yes.  The  bishop's  widow,  who  is  reduced  to  keep- 
ing a  student's  boarding-house  to  help  support  her  fifteen 
children,"  sighed  the  ancient  dame. 

"Yes,  and  my  dear  dead  mother's  dearest  friend.  Well, 
I  have  heard  that  she  is  in  a  dying  condition,  and  desires 
above  all  things  to  see  me  before  she  departs.  That's 
what  shocked  me  so  severely  as  to  make  me  quite  ill.  But 
I  never  should  forgive  myself  if  by  any  delay  of  mine  she 
really  should  depart  without  having  her  last  wish  gratified. 
Do  you  blame  me  for  hurrying  away?" 

"  N'o,  no,  no,  my  child — my  own  lovely  child !  I  do  not 
wonder  my  poor  Charley  worshiped  you,  you  are  so  very 
good.  Go,  Mary,  my  darling.  But  hurry  back  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"Yes,  sweet  mother,  I  will.  And  now,  not  a  word  to 
Emma,  or  to  any  one  else  who  might  tell  her  of  these  dis- 
tressing circumstances." 

"ISTo,  no,  certainly  not.  How  thoughtful  you  are,  for 
one  so  young,  you  good  child!  Bend  down  and  take  my 
blessing.'^ 

Mary  Grey  bowed  her  head. 


38  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

The  venerable  lady  placed  her  withered  hands  upon  the 
bent  head,  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and  solemnly  invoked 
a  blessing  on  the  traitress. 

And  then  Mary  Grey  arose,  kissed  her  in  silence,  and 
left  the  room. 

And  thus  they  parted. 

In  the  hall  below  she  had  to  part  with  Emma  and  Elec- 
tra. 

"We  hope  you  will  return  to  us  very  soon,  dear  Mrs. 
Grey,^^  said  Emma  Cavendish,  as  she  kissed  her  good-by. 

"I  hope  so,  too,  my  dear,"  answered  the  widow. 

*^But  you  will  scarcely  get  back  before  I  return  to  school, 
so  ours  must  be  a  very  long  good-by,"  said  Electra,  as  she 
also  kissed  the  "parting  guest." 

"  ^Tis  true,  'tis  pity,"  said  Mrs.  Grey,  between  a  smile 
and  a  sigh. 

Dr.  Jones  then  handed  her  into  the  carriage,  and  fol- 
lowed and  took  a  seat  by  her  side,  for  he  was  to  attend 
her  to  the  station  and  see  her  off  on  her  journey. 


CHAPTER  IX 


When"  Emma  Cavendish  turned  back  into  the  house  she 
went  up  into  the  old  lady's  room  with  the  intention  of 
breaking  to  her  the  news  of  Katherine  Fanning's  widow- 
hood and  destitution,  and  of  her  own  desire  to  invite  her 
to  come  and  live  at  Blue  Cliffs. 

She  found  Mrs.  Cavendish  just  finishing  her  nice  break-, 
fast  with  Aunt  Moll  in  attendance  upon  her. 

"Here,  take  away  the  service  now,"  said  the  old  lady, 
putting  down  her  empty  coffee  cup.  "And  now,  Emma, 
I  am  very  glad  you  have  come.  I  feel  quite  low  about 
parting  with  Mary.    What  an  angel  she  is!" 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  39 

"Cheer  up,  grandma!  We  shall  have  another  addition 
to  our  family  circle  soon,"  said  Emma,  pleasantly. 

"Who  is  coming,  my  dear?"  inquired  Mrs.  Cavendish, 
with  all  the  curiosity  of  a  recluse. 

"Oh,  another  lady!"  slowly  answered  Miss  Cavendish, 
to  give  Aunt  Moll  time  to  get  out  of  the  room  with  her 
breakfast  tray.  And  when  the  old  woman  had  shut  the 
door  behind  her,  Emma  said : 

"Dear  grandma,  you  will  be  very  much  surprised  to 
hear  who  it  is  that  is  coming." 

And  when  Mrs.  Cavendish  looked  up,  surprised  indeed, 
as  well  as  somewhat  alarmed,  Emma  began  and  told  her 
of  the  letter  she  had  received  from  Mrs.  Fanning,  of  her 
widowhood  and  destitution,  and  of  her  recent  arrival  in 
New  York. 

"All  this  is  very  distressing,  my  dear  Emma,  but  you 
see  in  it  only  the  natural  consequence  of  a  low  marriage," 
said  the  old  aristocrat. 

"But  the  marriage  is  broken  by  death,  dear  grandma, 
and  the  error  is  atoned  for  by  much  suffering,"  said  Emma, 
gently. 

"Well,  my  dear,  what  does  the  poor  woman  want  us  to 
do  V^  inquired  Mrs.  Cavendish. 

"She  asks  nothing,  grandma.  She  simply  writes  to  me, 
her  sister^s  child " 

"Her  half-sister's  child,"  haughtily  interrupted  the  old 
lady. 

"  It  is  the  same  thing,  grandma.  Her  half-sister's  child, 
and  her  only  living  relative " 

"Her  only  living  relative?"  again  interrupted  the  old 
lady.    "Where  is  her  own  misguided  daughter?" 

"Supposed  to  be  dead,  dear  grandma.  Certainly  dead 
to  her,"  said  Emma,  sadly. 

"Well,  go  on,  child;  go  on." 

"She  writes  to  me,  I  say,  and  tells  me  of  her  situation — 
widowed,  childless,  homeless  and  utterly  destitute  in  a 
strange  city;  but  she  asks  nothing — suggests  nothing." 

"Well,  and  what  would  you  do? — ^you,  her  only  living 


40  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

relative?"  inquired  the  ancient  dame,  in  a  tone  approach- 
ing sarcasm. 

"I  would  restore  to  her  all  that  she  has  lost  if  I  could. 
I  would  give  her  back  husband,  daughter,  home  and  com- 
petence,'' said  Emma. 

"But  3^ou  can't  do  it  any  more  than  you  can  give  her 
back  her  lost  caste,"  interrupted  the  old  lady. 

Emma  felt  discouraged,  but  did  not  yield  her  point. 

"No,  dear  grandma,"  she  answered  sorrowfully,  "I  can- 
not give  her  back  her  husband,  her  child,  or  her  wealth; 
but  I  can  give  my  mother's  suffering  sister  a  home  and  a 
friend." 

Madam  Cavendish  lowered  her  gold-rimmed  spectacles 
from  her  cap  frills  to  her  eyes,  placed  her  lace-mittened 
hands  on  the  arms  of  her  chair,  and  looked  straight  and 
steadily  into  the  face  of  her  granddaughter. 

It  was  extremely  disheartening,  and  Emma  dropped  her 
eyes  before  that  severe  gaze,  and  bowed  her  head  meekly. 

But  Emma,  though  she  was  the  young  girl,  was  in  the 
right;  and  Madam  Cavendish,  though  she  was  an  ancient 
and  venerable  dame,  was  in  the  wrong. 

Emma  knew  this  quite  well,  and  in  the  argument  that 
ensued  she  lovingly,  respectfull}^  yet  unflinchingly,  main- 
tained her  point. 

At  length  Madam  Cavendish  yielded,  saying  scornfully: 

"Well,  my  dear,  it  is  more  your  affair  than  mine.  In- 
vite her  here  if  3'ou  will.  I  wash  my  hands  of  it.  Only 
don't  ask  me  to  be  intimate  with  the  innkeeper's  widow; 
for  I  won't.    And  that's  all  about  it." 

"My  dear  grandma,  you  shall  never  see  or  hear  of  her, 
if  you  do  not  like  to  do  so.  You  seldom  leave  your  two 
rooms.  And  she  shall  never  enter  either  unless  you  send 
for  her,"  answered  Emma. 

"So  be  it  then,  my  dear.  And  now  let  me  go  to  sleep. 
I  always  want  to  go  to  sleep  after  an  argument,"  said 
Madam  Cavendish,  closing  her  eyes,  and  sinking  back  in 
her  armchair. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  41 

Emma  Cavendish  stooped  and  kissed  her,  and  then  left 
the  room. 

In  fifteen  minutes  after  she  had  written  and  dispatched 
to  the  office  at  Wendover  a  telegram  to  this  effect: 

"Blue  Cliffs,  April  29,  18—. 
"Dear  Aunt:     Come  home  to  me  here  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible.   I  will  write  to-day.  Emma  Cavendish." 

And  in  the  course  of  that  day  she  did  write  a  kind  and 
comforting  letter  to  the  bereaved  and  suffering  woman,  ex- 
pressing much  sympathy  with  her  in  her  affliction,  inviting 
her  to  come  and  live  at  Blue  Cliffs  for  the  rest  of  her  life, 
and  promising  all  that  an  affectionate  niece  could  do  to 
make  her  life  easy  and  pleasant. 

Miss  Cavendish  had  but  just  finished  this  letter  when 
Mr.  Craven  Kyte  was  announced. 

Emma,  who  was  always  kind  to  the  ward  of  her  late 
father,  at  once  received  him,  and  sent  for  Electra  to  help 
to  entertain  him. 

But  notwithstanding  the  presence  of  two  beautiful  girls, 
one  the  fairest  blonde,  the  other  the  brightest  brunette, 
and  both  kind  and  affable  in  their  manners  to  him,  the 
young  man  was  restless  and  anxious,  until  at  length,  with 
fierce  blushes  and  faltering  tones,  he  expressed  a  hope  that 
Mrs.  Grey  was  well,  and  made  an  inquiry  if  she  were  in. 

Electra  laughed. 

Emma  told  him  that  Mrs.  Grey  had  gone  for  change  of 
air  to  Charlottesville,  and  would  be  absent  for  some  time. 
She  also  added — although  the  young  man  had  not  once 
thought  of  inquiring  for  Miss  L^i^ton — that  Laura  had  like- 
wise gone  to  visit  her  uncle's  family  at  Lytton  Lodge. 

The  foolish  young  victim  of  the  widow^s  false  wiles 
looked  very  much  disappointed  and  depressed,  yet  had  sense 
enough  left  him  to  remember  to  say,  that  as  he  himself 
was  on  the  road  to  Perch  Point,  and  should  take  Lytton 
Lodge  on  his  way,  he  would  be  happy  to  convey  any  letter 
or  message  from  the  ladies  of  Blue  Cliffs  to  Miss  Lytton. 


42  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Emma  thanked  him  and  availed  herself  of  his  offer  by 
sending  a  letter,  as  we  have  seen. 

And  then  she  went  about  the  house,  attended  by  old 
Moll,  selecting  and  arranging  rooms  for  her  new  expected 
guests. 

The  next  afternoon  she  was  quite  surprised  by  another 
call  from  Craven  Kyte.  He  was  shown  into  the  parlor, 
where  she  sat  at  work  with  Electra. 

"You  have  come  back  quickly,  but  we  are  glad  to  see 
you,"  she  said,  as  she  arose  to  shake  hands  with  him. 

"Yes,  miss,"  he  answered,  after  bowing  to  her  and  to 
Electra ;  "yes,  miss,  I  reached  Perch  Point  last  night,  and 
I  left  it  early  this  morning.  In  going  I  called  at  Lytton 
Lodge  and  delivered  your  letter,  miss." 

"The  family  at  the  lodge  are  well,  I  hope?" 

"All  well,  miss.  And  as  I  passed  by  the  gate  this  morn- 
ing, the  man  Taters,  who  was  at  work  on  the  lawn,  told 
me  that  Mr.  Alden  and  Miss  Laura  Lytton  would  leave 
for  this  place  at  noon." 

"Then  they  will  be  here  to-night,"  said  Electra. 

"Yes,  miss." 

"Will  you  stay  and  spend  the  afternoon  and  evening 
with  us,  Mr.  K>i;e  ?  Shall  I  ring  and  have  your  horse  put 
up?"  inquired  Miss  Cavendish. 

"No,  thank  you,  miss.  I  must  get  back  to  Wendover 
to-night.  Fact  is,  I'm  on  the  wing  again,"  said  the  young 
man,  stammering  and  blushing.  "Business  of  importance 
calls  me  to — to  Charlottesville,  miss.  So  if  you  should 
have  a  letter  or  a  message  to  send  to — to — Mrs.  Grey,  I 
should  be  happy  to  take  it." 

Emma  Cavendish  and  Electra  Coroni  looked  at  each  other 
in  comic  surprise. 

"Why,  you  must  be  an  amateur  postman,  Mr.  Kyte.  Tg 
fetch  and  carry  letters  seems  to  be  your  mission  on  earth, ^ 
laughed  Electra. 

"So  it  has  been  often  said  of  me,  miss.  And  if  you  or 
Miss  Cavendish  have  any  to  send,  I  should  be  happy  to 
take  them,"  answered  the  young  man,  quite  seriously. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  43 

"T  have  none,"  said  Electra. 

"Nor  I,  thank  you,"  added  Emma;  "but  vn^i  mev,  if 
you  please,  give  my  love  to  Mrs.  Grey,  and  i:  „:  we 
shall  feel  anxious  until  we  hear  of  her  saft  arrival  and 
improved  health." 

"I  will  do  so  with  much  pleasure,"  said  Mr.  X^ie,  rising 
to  take  leave. 

As  soon  as  the  visitor  had  left  them  the  two  young  ladies 
exchanged  glances  of  droll  amazement. 

''As  sure  as  you  live,  Emma,  the  business  of  importance 
that  takes  him  to  Charlottesville  is  Mrs.  Mary  Grey !  He's 
taken  in  and  done  for,  poor  wretch!  I  shouldn't  wonder 
a  bit  if  he  sold  out  his  share  in  the  fancy  dry  goods  store 
at  Wendover,  and  invested  all  his  capital  in  college  fees, 
and  entered  himself  as  a  student  at  the  universit}^  for  the 
sake  of  being  near  his  enchantress,"  said  Electra. 

"Poor  boy!"  sighed  Emma,  with  genuine  pity. 

And  before  they  could  exchange  another  word  the  sound 
of  carriage  wheels  at  the  gate  announced  the  arrival  of 
Alden  and  Laura  Lytton. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  FALSE  AND  THE   TEUE   LOVE 

Emma  Cavendish,  with  her  cheeks  blooming,  and  eyes 
beaming  mth  pleasure,  ran  out  to  meet  her  friends. 

Alden  and  Laura  Lytton,  just  admitted  by  the  footmain, 
stood  within  the  hall. 

Miss  Cavendish  welcomed  Laura  with  a  kiss,  and  Alden 
with  a  cordial  grasp  of  the  hand. 

"I  am  so  delighted  to  see  you,  dear  Laura;  and  you 
also,  Mr.  L3i;ton,"  she  said,  leading  the  way  into  the  par- 
lor. 

"Well,  as  I  like  my  kind  relatives  at  Lytton  Lodge,  I  am 
very  glad  to  get  back  to  you,  Emma  dear,  and  that  is  the 


44  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

truth,"  answered  Laura,  as  she  sank  into  an  armchair  and 
began  to  draw  off  her  gloves. 

Alden  said  nothing.  He  had  bowed  deepl}^  in  response 
to  Miss  Cavendish's  words  of  welcome,  and  now  he  was 
thinking  what  a  bright  and  beautiful  creature  she  was, 
how  full  of  healthful,  joyous  life  she  seemed,  and  won- 
dering that  he  had  never  noticed  all  this  before. 

But  he  had  noticed  it  before.  When  he  first  saw  Emma 
Cavendish  in  her  father's  house  in  the  city,  he  had  thought 
her  the  most  heavenly  vision  of  loveliness  that  had  ever 
beamed  upon  mortal  eyes,  and  he  would  have  continued  to 
think  so,  had  not  the  baleful  beauty  of  Mary  Grey  glided 
before  him,  and  beguiled  his  sight  and  his  soul. 

But  Mary  Grey  was  gone  with  all  her  magic  arts,  and 
the  very  atmosphere  seemed  clearer  and  brighter  for  her 
absence. 

"As  soon  as  you  have  rested  a  little,  come  up  to  your 
room,  Laura,  and  lay  off  your  wraps.  Tea  will  be  ready 
by  the  time  we  come  down  again.  And,  Mr.  Lytton,  your 
old  attendant,  Jerome,  will  show  you  to  your  apartment," 
said  the  young  hostess,  as  she  arose,  with  a  smile,  to  con- 
duct her  guest. 

They  left  the  drawing-room  together. 

And  while  Laura  Lytton  was  arranging  her  toilet  in 
the  chamber  above  stairs,  Emma  Cavendish  told  her  the 
particulars  of  Mary  Grey's  departure,  and  also  of  the 
letter  she  had  received  from  her  long-estranged  relative, 
Mrs.  Fanning. 

They  went  down  to  tea,  where  they  were  joined  by 
Electra  and  the  Eev.  Dr.  Jones. 

Miss  Cavendish  presented  Mr.  Lytton  to  Dr.  Jones. 
And  then  they  sat  down  to  the  table. 

Alden  Lytton's  eyes  and  thoughts  were  naturally 
enough  occupied  and  interested  in  Emma  Cavendish.  He 
had  not  exactly  fallen  in  love  with  her,  but  he  was  cer- 
tainly filled  with  admiration  for  the  loveliest  girl  he  had 
ever  seen.     And  he  could  but  draw  involuntary  compari- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  45 

sons  between  the  fair,  frank,  bright  maiden  and  the  beau- 
tiful, alluring  widow. 

Both  were  brilliant,  but  with  this  difference;  the  one 
with  the  pure,  life-giving  light  of  heaven,  and  the  other 
with  the  fatal  fire  of  Tartarus. 

After  tea  they  went  into  the  drawing-room,  where  they 
spent  a  long  evening  talking  over  "old  times" — their  '^old 
times"  being  something  less  than  one  year  of  age. 

And  every  hour  confirmed  Alden  Lytton's  admiration 
of  Emma  Cavendish. 

The  next  day  Alden  Lytton  was  invited  upstairs  to  the 
old  lady's  room  and  presented  to  Madam  Cavendish,  who 
received  him  with  much  cordiality,  telling  him  that  his 
gr  ddfather  had  been  a  lifelong  personal  friend  of  hers, 
and  that  she  had  known  his  father  from  his  infancy  up  to 
f=ie  time  that  he  had  left  the  neighborhood  to  practice  law 
n  the  city. 

And  after  a  short  interview  the  ancient  gentlewoman 
and  the  3'Oung  law  student  parted,  mutually  well  pleased 
with  each  other. 

The  party  of  young  friends  remained  one  week  longer 
at  Blue  Cliffs,  every  day  deepening  and  confirming  the 
admiration  and  respect  with  which  the  beauty  and  the  ex- 
cellence of  Emma  Cavendish  inspired  Alden  Lytton.  But 
yet  he  was  not  in  love  with  her. 

Every  morning  was  spent  by  the  young  people  in  riding 
or  driving  about  through  the  sublime  and  beautiful  moun- 
tain and  valley  scenery  of  the  neighborhood. 

And  every  evening  was  passed  in  fancy  work,  music, 
reading  or  conversation  in  the  drawing-room. 

And  so  the  pleasant  days  of  the  Easter  holidays  passed 
away,  and  the  time  for  study  and  for  work  commenced. 

T.aura  and  Electra  went  away  from  Blue  Cliffs  on  the 
same  day — Laura  escorted  by  her  brother  Alden,  and 
Electra  by  her  grandfather,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones. 

As  the  party  were  assembled  in  the  front  hall  to  take 
leave  of  their  fair  young  hostess  before  entering  the  large 
traveling  carriage  that  was  to  take  them  to  the  Wendover 


46  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

railway  station,  Emma  Cavendish  went  up  to  Alden  Lyt- 
ton  and  placed  a  letter  in  his  hand,  saying,  with  a  frank 
smile : 

"As  you  are  going  direct  to  Charlottesville,  Mr.  Lytton, 
I  will  trouble  you  to  take  charge  of  this  letter  to  our  mu- 
tual friend,  Mrs.  Grey,  who,  you  know,  is  now  staying  in 
that  town.    Will  you  do  so  V^ 

"Certainly — with  great  pleasure,"  stammered  Alden  in 
extreme  confusion,  which  he  could  scarcely  conceal,  and 
without  the  slightest  consciousness  that  he  was  telling  an 
enormous  falsehood,  but  with  full  assurance  that  he 
should  like  to  oblige  Miss  Cavendish. 

"I  hope  it  will  not  inconvenience  you  to  deliver  tb^'s  in 
person,  Mr.  Lytton,"  added  Emma. 

"Certainly  not.  Miss  Cavendish,"  replied  Alden,  tei.mg 
unconscious  fib  the  second. 

"For,  you  see,  I  am  rather  anxious  about  our  frien  '. 
She  left  in  ill  health.  She  is  almost  a  stranger  in  Chai- 
lottesville.  And — this  is  the  point — I  have  not  heard  from 
her,  by  letter  or  otherwise,  since  she  left  us ;  so  I  fear  she 
may  be  too  ill  to  write,  and  may  have  no  friend  near  to 
write  for  her.  This  is  why  I  tax  your  kindness  to  deliver 
the  letter  in  person,  and  find  out  how  she  is;  and — write 
and  let  us  know.  I  am  asking  a  great  deal  of  you,  Mr. 
Lytton,"  added  Emma,  with  a  deprecating  smile. 

"Not  at  all.  It  is  a  very  small  service  that  you  re- 
quire. And  I  hope  you  know  that  I  should  be  exceedingly 
happy  to  have  the  opportunity  of  doing  any  very  great 
service  for  you,  Miss  Cavendish,"  replied  Alden,  truth- 
fully and  earnestly.  For  in  itself  it  was  a  very  small  ser- 
vice that  Miss  Cavendish  had  required  of  him,  and  he 
would  have  liked  and  even  preferred  another  and  a 
greater,  and  in  fact  a  different  service, 

"Many  thanks,"  said  Miss  Cavendish,  with  a  frank 
smile,  as  she  left  the  letter  in  his  hands. 

Then  the  adieux  were  all  said,  and  promises  of  frequent 
correspondence  and  future  visits  exchanged  among  the 
young  ladies.    And  the  travelers  departed,  and  the  young 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  47 

hostess  re-entered  her  lonely  home  and  resumed  her  usual 
routine  of  domestic  duties. 

She  was  anxious  upon  more  than  one  account. 

More  than  a  week  had  passed  since  the  departure  of 
Mary  Grey,  and  yet,  as  she  had  told  Alden  Lytton,  she 
had  never  heard  even  of  her  safe  arrival  at  Charlottesville, 
and  she  feared  that  her  protege  might  be  suffering  from 
nervous  illness  among  strangers. 

More  than  a  week  had  also  passed  since  she  had  tele- 
graphed and  written  to  her  Aunt  Fanning  in  New  York. 
But  no  answer  had  yet  come  from  that  unhappy  woman. 
And  she  feared  that  the  poor  relative  whom  she  wished  to 
succor  might  have  met  with  some  new  misfortune. 

However,  Emma  had  hoped,  from  day  to  day,  that  each 
morning^s  mail  might  bring  her  good  news  from  Char- 
lottesville or  New  York,  or  both. 

And  even  to-day  she  waited  with  impatience  for  the  re- 
turn of  Jerome,  who  had  driven  the  traveling  carriage 
containing  the  departing  visitors  to  Wendover,  and  who 
might  find  letters  for  Blue  Cliffs  waiting  at  the  post 
office. 

As  she  turned  to  go  downstairs,  she  glanced  through 
the  front  hall  window  and  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  trav- 
eling carriage,  with  Jerome  perched  upon  the  box,  slowly 
winding  its  way  around  the  circular  avenue  that  led  to  the 
house. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   SUEPRISE 

She  ran  downstairs  briskly  enough  now,  and  ran  out  of 
the  front  door. 

"Any  letters  to-day,  Jerome?"  she  inquired. 

"No,  miss,"  answered  Jerome,  shaking  his  head. 

"Oh,  dear,  how  depressing,"  sighed  Emma,  as  she  turned 
to  go  into  the  house. 


48  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

But  a  sound  arrested  her  steps — the  opening  of  the  car- 
riage door.  She  turned  and  saw  Jerome  standing  before 
it,  and  in  the  act  of  helping  some  one  to  alight  from  the 
carriage. 

Another  moment,  and  a  tall,  thin,  dark-eyed  woman,  with 
very  white  hair,  and  clad  in  the  deepest  widow's  weeds, 
stood  before  Miss  Cavendish. 

By  instinct  Emma  recognized  her  aunt.  And  she  felt 
very  much  relieved,  and  very  much  rejoiced  to  see  her, 
even  while  wondering  that  she  could  have  come  unan- 
nounced either  by  letter  or  telegram. 

As  for  Jerome,  he  stood  wickedly  enjoying  his  young 
lady's  astonishment,  and  looking  as  if  he  himself  had  per- 
formed a  very  meritorious  action. 

"Miss  Emma  Cavendish,  I  presume,^^  said  the  stranger, 
a  little  hestitatingly. 

"Yes,  madam.  And  3'ou  are  my  Aunt  Fanning,  I  am 
sure.  And  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you,"  answered  Emma 
Cavendish.  And  she  put  her  arms  around  the  stranger's 
neck  and  kissed  her. 

"Dat's  better'n  letters,  ain't  it,  Miss  Emmer?"  inquired 
Jerome,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  and  showing  a  double 
row  of  the  strongest  and  whitest  ivories,  as  he  proceeded 
to  take  from  the  carriage  various  packages,  boxes  and  trav- 
eling bags,  and  so  forth. 

"Yes,  better  than  letters,  Jerome.  Follow  us  into  the 
house  with  that  luggage.  Come,  dear  aunt,  let  us  go  in. 
Lean  on  my  arm.  Don't  be  afraid  to  lean  heavily.  I  am 
very  strong,^'  said  Emma;  and,  drawing  the  poor  lady's 
emaciated  hand  through  her  own  arm,  she  led  her  into  the 
house. 

She  took  her  first  into  the  family  sitting-room,  where 
there  was  a  cheerful  fire  burning,  which  the  chilly  moun- 
tain air,  in  this  pring  weather,  made  very  acceptable. 

She  placed  her  in  a  comfortable,  cushioned  rocking-chair 
and  proceeded  to  take  off  the  traveling  bonnet  and  shawl 
with  her  own  hands,  saying : 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  49 

"You  must  get  well  rested  and  refreshed  here  before 
you  go  up  to  your  room.    You  look  very  tired." 

"I  am  very  weak,  my  dear/'  answered  the  lady,  in  a 
faint  voice. 

"  I  see  that  you  are.  I  am  very  sorry  to  see  you  so  feeble, 
but  we  will  make  you  stronger  here  in  our  exhilarating 
mountain  air.  If  I  had  known  that  you  would  come  by 
this  train  I  should  have  gone  to  the  railway  station  in  per- 
son to  meet  you,"  said  Emma  kindly. 

Mrs.  Fanning  turned  her  great  black  eyes  upon  the  young 
lady  and  stared  at  her  in  surprise. 

"Why,  did  you  not  get  my  letter?"  she  inquired. 

"No,"  said  Emma.  "I  anxiously  expected  to  hear  from 
you  from  day  to  day,  but  heard  nothing  either  by  letter  or 
telegram." 

"That  is  strange!  I  wrote  to  you  three  days  ago  that  I 
should  be  at  Wendover  this  morning,  and  so,  when  I  found 
your  carriage  there,  I  thought  you  had  sent  for  me." 

"It  was  very  fortunate  that  the  carriage  was  there,  and 
I  am  very  glad  of  it ;  but  it  was  not,  in  fact,  sent  to  meet 
you,  for,  not  having  received  your  letter,  I  did  not  know 
that  you  would  arrive  to-day.  The  carriage  was  sent  to 
take  some  visitors  who  had  been  staying  with  us,  and  were 
going  away,  to  the  railway  station.  It  is  a  wonder  Jerome 
had  not  explained  this  to  you.  He  is  so  talkative,"  said 
Emma,  smiling. 

"I  never  talk  to  strange  servants,"  gravely  replied  the 
lady.  "But  I  will  tell  you  how  it  happened.  I  really  ar- 
rived by  the  earliest  train,  that  got  in  at  Wendover  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  There  was  no  carriage  from  Blue 
Cliffs  waiting  for  me  at  the  railway  station,  and  in  fact  no 
carriage  from  any  place,  except  the  hack  from  the  Rein- 
deer Hotel.  So  I  got  into  that,  and  having  previously  left 
word  with  the  station  master  to  send  the  Blue  Cliffs  car- 
riage after  me  to  the  Reindeer  when  it  should  come,  I 
went  on  to  the  hotel  to  get  breakfast,  and  to  lie  down  and 
rest.    Bat  when  half  the  forenoon  had  passed  away  with- 


50  VICTOR'S  TRroMPH 

out  any  arrival  for  me,  I  began  to  grow  anxious,  fearing 
that  some  mistake  had  been  made." 

"I  am  very  sorry  you  had  to  suffer  this  annoyance,  im- 
mediately upon  your  arrival  here,  too,"  said  Emma,  re- 
gretfully. 

"Oh,  it  did  not  last  long.  About  noon  the  landlord, 
Greenfield,  rapped  at  my  door,  and  told  me  that  the  Blue 
Cliffs  carriage  had  come,  and  that  the  ostler  was  watering 
the  horses  while  the  coachman  was  taking  a  glass  of  beer 
at  the  bar." 

"Jerome  had  doubtless  taken  our  visitors  to  the  station, 
and  called  at  the  Reindeer  to  refresh  himself  and  his 
horses." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  Almost  at  the  same  moment  that 
the  landlord  came  to  my  door  to  announce  the  carriage,  T 
heard  some  one  else,  under  my  window,  saying  to  the 
<joachman  that  there  was  a  lady  here  waiting  to  be  taken 
to  Blue  Cliffs.  And  I  went  down  and  got  into  the  car- 
riage with  ^ag  and  baggage.'  And  Jerome,  if  that's  his 
name,  very  gravely,  with  a  silent  bow,  put  up  the  steps  and 
closed  the  door,  and  mounted  his  box  and  drove  off." 

"But  you  must  have  left  some  baggage  behind." 

"Yes,  three  trunks;  one  very  large.  Mr.  Greenfield,  of 
the  Reindeer,  promised  to  send  them  right  after  me  in  his 
wagon." 

While  they  had  been  speaking,  Emma  Cavendish  had 
touched  the  bell  and  given  a  whispered  order  to  the  servant 
who  answered  it. 

So  now  the  second  footman,  Peter,  appeared  with  a 
waiter  in  his  hands,  on  which  was  served  tea,  toast,  a 
broiled  squab  and  glass  of  currant  jelly. 

This  was  set  upon  a  stand  beside  Mrs.  Fanning's  easy- 
chair. 

"I  think  that  you  had  better  take  something  before  you 
go  upstairs,"  said  the  young  hostess,  kindly,  as  she  poured 
out  a  cup  of  tea. 

Consumptives  are  almost  always  hungry  and  thirsty,  as 
if  nature  purposely  created  an  unusual  appetite  for  nour- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  51 

ishment,  in  order  to  supply  the  excessive  waste  of  tissue 
caused  by  the  malady. 

And  so  Mrs.  Fanning  really  enjoyed  the  delicate  lun- 
cheon set  before  her,  so  much  that  she  finished  the  squab, 
the  jelly,  the  toast,  and  the  tea. 

When  she  had  been  offered  and  had  refused  a  second 
supply,  Emma  proposed  that  she  should  go  up  to  her  room, 
and  she  took  her  at  once  to  the  beautiful  corner  chamber, 
with  its  southern  and  eastern  aspect,  that  had  been  fitted 
up  for  her.  Here  she  found  that  her  traveling  trunks, 
which  had  already  arrived  from  Wendover,  were  placed. 

And  here,  when  she  had  changed  her  traveling  dress  for 
a  loose  wrapper,  she  laid  down  on  a  lounge  to  rest,  while 
Emma  darkened  the  room  and  left  her  to  repose. 

Miss  Cavendish  went  straight  to  the  old  lady's  apart- 
ment. 

Mrs.  Cavendish  was  sitting  in  her  great  easy-chair  by  the 
fire,  with  her  gold-rimmed  spectacles  on  her  nose,  and  her 
Bible  lying  open  on  her  lap. 

As  Emma  entered  the  room  the  old  lady  closed  the  book, 
and  looked  up  with  a  welcoming  smile. 

"I  have  come  to  tell  you,  my  dear  grandma,  that  Aunt 
Fanning  has  arrived,"  said  Emma,  drawing  a  chair  and 
seating  herself  by  the  old  lady's  side. 

"Yes,  my  dear  child;  but  I'll  trouble  you  not  to  call 
her  Aunt  Fanning,"  said  Madam  Cavendish,  haughtily. 

"But  she  is  my  aunt,  dear  grandma,"  returned  Emma, 
with  a  deprecating  smile. 

"Then  call  her  Aunt  Katherine.  I  detest  the  name  of 
that  tavern-keeper  whom  she  married." 

"Grandma,  grandma,  the  man  has  gone  where  at  least 
there  can  be  no  distinctions  of  mere  family  rank,"  said 
Emma. 

"That's  got  nothing  to  do  with  it.  We  are  here  now. 
Well,  and  when  did  Katherine  arrive,  and  where  have  you 
put  her?    Tell  me  all  about  it." 

Emma  told  her  all  about  it. 

"Well,"  said  the  old  lady,  "as  she  is  here,  though  sorely 


52  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

against  my  approbation — still,  as  she  is  here,  we  must  give 
her  a  becoming  welcome,  I  suppose.  You  may  bring  her 
to  my  room  to-morrow  morning." 

"Thank  you,  grandma,  dear;  that  is  just  what  I  would 
like  to  do,"  replied  the  young  lady. 

Accordingly  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Fanning  was  con- 
ducted by  Emma  to  the  "Throne  Room,"  as  Electra  had 
saucily  designated  the  old  lady's  apartment. 

Madam  Cavendish  was  dressed  with  great  care,  in  a 
fine  black  cashmere  wrapper,  lined  and  trimmed  with  black 
silk,  and  a  fine  white  lace  cap,  trimmed  with  white  piping. 

And  old  Moll,  also  in  her  best  clothes,  stood  behind  her 
mistress'  chair. 

The  old  lady  meant  to  impress  "the  tavern-keeper's 
widow"  with  a  due  sense  of  reverence. 

But  the  gentlewoman's  heart  was  a  great  deal  better 
than  her  head.  And  so,  when  she  saw  the  girl  whom  she 
had  once  known  a  brilliant,  rich-complexioned  brunette, 
with  raven  hair  and  sparkling  eyes  and  queenly  form, 
changed  into  a  woman  old  before  her  time,  pale,  thin,  gray 
and  sorrow-stricken,  her  heart  melted  with  pity,  and  she 
held  out  her  hand,  saying,  kindly : 

"How  do  you  do,  Katie,  my  dear?  I  am  very  sorry  to 
see  you  looking  in  such  ill-health.  You  have  changed  very 
much  from  flie  child  I  knew  you,  twenty-five  years  ago." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Fanning,  as  she  took  and  pressed  the 
venerable  hand  that  was  held  out  to  her,  "I  have  changed. 
But  there  is  only  one  more  change  that  awaits  me — the 
last  great  one." 

"Moll,  wheel  forward  that  other  easy-chair.  Sit  down 
at  once,  my  poor  Katie.  You  look  ready  to  drop  from 
weakness.  Emma,  my  child,  pour  out  a  glass  of  that  old 
port  wine  and  bring  it  to  your  aunt.  You  will  find  it  in 
that  little  cabinet,"  said  Madam  Cavdndish,  speaking  to 
one  and  another  in  her  hurry  to  be  hospitable,  and  to  atone 
for  the  hard  thoughts  she  had  cherished  and  expressed  to- 
ward this  poor,  suffering  and  desolate  woman. 

And  Mrs.  Fanning  was  soon  seated  in  the  deep,  soft 


VICTOR'S  TRIUiMPH  53 

"sleepy  hollow,"  and  sipping  with  comfort  the  rich  old 
port  wine. 

"Yes,  Katie,"  said  the  old  lady,  resuming  the  thread  of 
the  conversation,  "that  last  great  change  awaits  us  all — a 
glorious  change,  Katie,  that  I,  for  one,  look  forward  to 
with  satisfaction  and  desire  always — with  rapture  and  long- 
ing sometimes.  What  will  the  next  life  be  like,  I  wonder? 
We  don't  know.  ^Eye  hath  not  seen — ear  heard,'  "  mu^^d 
the  old  lady. 

The  interview  was  not  a  long  one.  Soon  Emma  Cav- 
endish took  her  aunt  from  the  room. 

"You  must  come  in  and  see  me  every  day,  Katie,  my 
dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  as  the  two  visitors  left. 

And  from  that  time  the  desolate  widow,  the  homeless 
wanderer,  found  loving  and  tender  friends,  and  a  com- 
fortable and  quiet  home. 


CHAPTER  XII 

ALDEyr  AND  HIS  EVIL  GENIUS 

Meanwhile,  the  visitors  that  had  left  Blue  Cliffs  that 
morning  traveled  together  until  they  reached  Richmond^ 

The  train  got  in  at  ten  o'clock  that  night. 

There  was  no  steamboat  to  Mount  Ascension  Island  until 
the  next  day. 

So  the  party  for  that  bourne  were  compelled  to  spend 
^he  night  at  Richmond. 

Alden,  although  he  might  have  gone  on  to  Charlottes- 
ville that  night,  determined  to  remain  with  his  friends. 

The  whole  party  went  to  the  Henrico  House,  where  they 
were  accommodated  with  adjoining  rooms. 

The  next  morning  they  resumed  their  journey,  separat- 
ing to  go  their  several  ways.  Alden  saw  the  two  young 
ladies  safely  on  the  steamboat  that  was  to  take  them  to 
l\rount  Ascension,  and  then  bade  them  good-by,  leaving 


54  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

them  in  charge  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones,  who  was  to  escort 
them  to  the  end  of  their  journey. 

He  had  barely  time  to  secure  his  seat  for  Charlottesville, 
where  he  arrived  on  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day. 

The  letter  he  had  to  deliver  to  Mary  Grey  "burned  in 
his  pocket."  He  could  not  have  done  otherwise  than  prom- 
ise to  deliver  it  in  person,  when  fair  Emma  Cavendish 
had  requested  him  to  do  so.  And  now,  of  course,  he  must 
keep  his  word,  and  go  and  carry  tlie  letter  to  her,  although 
he  would  rather  have  walked  into  a  fire  than  into  that  false 
siren's  presence. 

It  is  true  that  his  love  for  her  was  dead  and  gone.  But 
it  had  died  such  a  cruel  and  violent  death  that  the  very 
memory  of  it  was  full  of  pain  and  horror,  and  to  meet  her 
would  be  like  meeting  tlie  spectre  of  his  murdered  love. 
Nevertheless,  he  must  not  shrink  from  his  duty;  he  must 
go  and  do  it. 

Before  reporting  at  his  college  he  went  to  a  hotel  and 
changed  his  clothes,  and  then  started  out  to  find  Mary 
Grey's  residence.  That  was  not  so  easily  done.  She  had 
omitted  to  leave  her  address  with  her  friends  at  Blue  Cliffs, 
and  Emma's  letter  was  simply  directed  to  Mrs.  Mary  Grey, 
Charlottesville. 

True,  Charlottesville  was  not  a  very  large  place;  but 
looking  for  a  lady  there  was  something  like  looking  for 
the  fabulous  needle  in  the  haystack. 

Still,  he  had  formed  a  plan  of  action  to  find  her.  He 
knew  that  she  pretended  to  great  piety;  that  she  was  a 
member  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,  and  that 
wherever  she  might  happen  to  sojourn  she  would  be  sure 
to  join  the  church,  and  make  friends  with  the  clergy  of 
her  own  denomination. 

So  Alden  bent  his  steps  to  the  house  of  the  Episcopal 
minister  at  Charlottesville. 

He  found  the  reverend  gentleman  at  home,  and  received 
from  him,  as  he  expected  to  do,  the  address  of  Mrs.  Grey. 

"A  most  excellent  young  woman,  sir — an  earnest  Chris- 
tian.    She  lost  not  a  day  in  presenting  her  church  letter 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  55 

and  uniting  herself  with  the  church.  She  has  been  here 
but  ten  days,  and  already  she  has  taken  a  class  in  the  Sun- 
day-school. A  most  meritorious  young  woman,  sir,"  said 
the  worthy  minister,  as  he  handed  the  card  with  Mrs.  Grey's 
new  address  written  upon  it. 

To  Alden,  wlio  knew  the  false-hearted  beauty  so  well,  all 
this  was  surprising. 

But  he  made  no  comment.  He  simply  took  the  card, 
bowed  his  thanks,  and  left  the  house  to  go  and  seek  the 
home  of  Mrs.  Grey. 

Among  many  falsehoods  the  woman  had  told  one  truth 
when  she  had  informed  Emma  Cavendish  that  she  had  a 
lady  friend  at  Charlottesville,  who  kept  a  students'  board- 
ing-house. She  had  met  this  lady  just  previous  to  engag- 
ing as  drawing-mistress  at  Mount  Ascension.  And  by  her 
alluring  arts  she  had  won  her  sympathy  and  confidence. 
She  was  staying  with  this  friend  at  the  time  that  Alden 
sought  her  out. 

He  now  easily  found  the  house. 

And  when  he  inquired  of  the  negro  boy  who  answered 
the  bell  whether  Mrs.  Grey  was  at  home  he  was  answered 
in  the  affirmative,  and  invited  to  enter  the  house. 

The  boy  opened  the  door  on  the  right-hand  of  the  nar- 
row entrance  passage,  and  Alden  passed  into  the  parlor, 
and  found  himself  unannounced  in  the  presence  of  his 
false  love. 

There  was  no  one  with  her,  and  she  was  sitting  at  a 
table,  with  drawing  materials  before  her,  apparently  en- 
gaged in  copying  a  picture. 

Hearing  the  door  open  and  shut,  she  lifted  her  head 
and  looked  up. 

Seeing  Alden  Lytton  standing  before  her,  she  dropped 
the  pencil  from  her  fingers,  turned  deadly  pale,  and  stared 
at  him  in  silence. 

Alden,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  was  scarcely  less  agi- 
tated, but  he  soon  recovered  self-command. 

"I  should  apologize,"  he  said,  ^'for  coming  in  unan- 
nounced; but  I  did  not  know  that  vou  were  here.     I  was 


56  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

shown  into  this  room  by  the  waiter,  supposing  that  I  was 
to  remain  here  until  he  took  my  card  to  you." 

She  neither  moved  nor  spoke,  but  sat  and  stared  at  him. 

"I  have  only  come  as  the  bearer  of  a  letter  to  you  from 
Miss  Cavendish,  a  letter  that  I  promised  to  deliver  in  per- 
soT^.  Here  it  is,-'  he  said,  laying  the  little  packet  on  the 
table  before  her. 

Still  she  made  no  answer  to  his  words,  nor  any  acknowl- 
edgment of  his  service.  She  did  not  even  take  up  Emma's 
letter. 

"And  now,  having  done  my  errand,  I  will  bid  you  good- 
afternoon,  Mrs.  Grey,"  he  said,  bowing  and  turning  to 
leave  the  room. 

That  broke  the  panic-stricken  spell  that  held  her  still. 

She  started  up  and  clasped  her  hands  suddenly  together, 
exclaiming : 

"No,  no,  no;  for  pity's  sake  don't  go  yet!  Now  that 
you  are  here,  for  Heaven's  sake  stay  a  moment  and  listen 
to  me!" 

"What  can  you  possibly  have  to  say  to  me,  Mrs.  Grey?" 
coolly  inquired  the  young  man. 

"Oh,  sit  down!  sit  down  one  little  moment  and  hear 
me!  I  have  not  got  tlie  plague,  that  you  should  hasten 
from  me  so,"  she  pleaded. 

It  was  in  Alden's  thoughts  to  say  that  moral  plagues 
were  even  more  dangerous  and  fatal  than  material  ones, 
but  the  woman  before  him  looked  so  really  distressed  that 
he  forbore. 

"I  know  that  you  have  ceased  to  love  me,"  she  went  on 
in  a  broken  voice.  "I  know,  of  course,  that  you  have 
ceased  to  love  me " 

"Yes.  I  am  thorono^hly  cured  of  that  egregious,  boyish 
folly,"  assented  Alden,  grimly. 

"1  know  it,  and  I  would  not  seek  to  recover  your  lost — 

lost  love;  but "     Her  voice,  that  had  been  faltering, 

now  broke  quite  clown,  and  she  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed 
as  if  her  heart  was  breaking. 

And  her  grief  was  as  real  as  it  was  violent,  for  she  had 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  57 

loved  the  handsome,  young  law  student,  and  she  mourned 
the  loss  of  his  love. 

Alden  sat  apparently  unmoved,  but  in  truth  he  was  be- 
ginning to  feel  very  sorry  for  this  woman,  but  it  was  with 
the  sorrow  we  feel  for  a  suffering  criminal,  and  totally  dis- 
tinct from  sympathy  or  affection. 

Presently  her  gust  of  tears  and  sobs  exhausted  itself, 
and  she  sighed  and  dried  her  eyes,  and  said: 

"Yes,  I  know  that  all  love  is  quite  over  between  us.'^ 

"Quite  over,"  assented  Alden,  emphatically. 

"And  it  was  not  to  renew  that  subject  that  I  asked  you 
to  stay  and  listen  to  me." 

"No,"  said  Alden,  "I  presume  not." 

"But,  though  all  thoughts  of  love  are  forever  over  be- 
tween us,  yet  I  cannot  bear  that  we  should  live  at  enmity. 
As  for  me,  I  am  not  your  enemy,  Alden  Lytton." 

"Nor  am  I  yours,  Mrs.  Grey.  You  and  I  can  live  as 
strangers  without  being  enemies." 

"Live  as  strangers!  Oh,  but  that  is  just  what  would 
break  my  heart  utterly.  Wliy  should  we  live  as  strangers  ? 
If  all  love  is  over  between  us,  and  if  we  are  still  not  ene- 
mies, if  we  have  forgiven  each  other,  why  should  we  two 
live  as  strangers  in  this  little  town?  Why  may  we  not 
meet  at  least  as  the  common  friends  of  every  day?" 

"Because  the  memory  of  the  past  would  preclude  the 
possibility  of  our  meeting  pleasantly  or  profitably." 

"Oh,  Alden,  you  are  very  hard !  You  have  not  for- 
given me!" 

"I  have  utterly  forgiven  you." 

"But  you  cherish  hard  thoughts  of  me?" 

"Mrs.  Grey,  I  must  regard  your  actions — the  actions 
thnt  separated  us — as  they  really  are,"  answered  Alden, 
sadly  and  firmly,  as  he  arose  and  took  his  hat  to  leave  tlie 
room. 

"  No,  no,  no ;  don't  go  yet.  You  must  hear  me !  You 
shall  hear  me!  Even  a  convicted  murderer  is  allowed  to 
speak  for  himself!"  she  exclaimed,  with  passionate  tears. 

Alden  sidied  and  sat  down. 


58  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"You  must  regard  my  actions  as  they  really  are,  you 
say.  Ah,  but  the  extenuating  circumstances,  the  tempta- 
tions, the  motives — ay,  the  motives ! — have  you  ever  thought 
of  them?" 

"I  can  see  no  motive  that  could  justify  your  acts,"  said 
Alden,  coldly. 

"No,  not  justify — I  do  not  justify  them  even  to  myself 
— not  justify,  but  palliate  them,  Alden — palliate  them,  at 
least,  in  your  eyes,  if  in  no  others." 
"And  why  in  my  eyes,  Mrs.  Grey?" 
"Oh,  Alden,  all  was  planned  for  your  sake !" 
"For  my  sake?    I  pray  you  do  not  say  that !" 
"Listen,  then,  and  consider  all  the  circumstances.     I 
loved  you,  and  promised  to  be  your  wife  at  that  far-dis- 
tant day,  when  you  should  come  into  a  living  law  practice. 
But  I  was  homeless,  penniless,  and  helpless.     I  had  lost 
my  situation  in  the  school,  and  I  had  no  prospect  of  get- 
ting another. 

"The  term  of  my  visit  to  Emma  Cavendish  had  noj^rly 
expired,  and  I  had  nowhere  to  go.  Governor  Cavendish 
loved  me  with  the  idolatrous  love  of  an  old  man  for  a  young 
woman,  and  besought  me  to  be  his  wife  with  such  insane 
earnestness  that  I  thought  my  refusal  would  certainly  be 
his  death,  especially  as  it  was  well  known  that  he  was 
liable  to  apoplexy,  and  that  any  excitement  might  bring 
on  a  fatal  attack.  Under  all  these  circumstances,  I  tliink 
I  must  have  lost  my  senses;  for  I  reasoned  with  myself — 
most  falsely  and  fatally  reasoned  with  myself  thus :  Why 
should  not  I,  who  am  about  to  be  cast  out  homeless  and 
penniless  upon  the  wide  world — why  should  not  I  secure 
myself  a  home,  and  save  this  old  man's  life  for  a  few  years 
longer,  by  accepting  his  love  and  becoming  his  wife?  Tt 
is  true  that  I  do  not  love  him,  but  I  honor  him  very  much. 
And  I  would  be  the  comfort  of  his  declining  years.  He 
could  not  live  long,  and  when  he  should  come  to  die,  I 
should  inherit  the  widow's  third  of  all  his  vast  estates. 
And  then,  after  the  year  of  mourning  should  be  over,  I 
could  marry  my  true  love,  and  bring  him  a  fortune,  too. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  59 

There,  Alden,  the  reasoning  was  all  false,  wicked  and  fatal. 
I  know"  that  now.  But,  oh,  Alden,  it  was  not  so  much  for 
mj'self  as  for  others  that  I  planned  thus.  I  thought  to 
have  blessed  and  comforted  the  old  man's  declining  years, 
and  after  his  death  to  have  brought  a  fortune  to  you.  These 
were  my  motives.  They  do  not  justify,  but  at  least  they 
palliate  my  conduct." 

vShe  ceased. 

Alden  did  not  reply,  but  stood  up  again  with  his  hat  in 
his  hand. 

"And  now,  Alden,  though  we  may  never  be  lovers  again, 
may  we  not  meet  sometimes  as  friends?  I  am  so  lonely 
here.  I  am,  indeed,  all  alone  in  the  world.  We  may  meet 
sometimes  as  friends,  Alden?''  she  asked,  pathetically. 

"No,  Mrs.  Grey.  But  yet,  if  ever  I  can  serve  you  in 
any  way  I  will  do  so  most  willingly.  Good-afternoon," 
said  the  young  man.    And  he  bowed  and  left  the  room. 

As  he  disappeared,  her  beautiful  face  darkened  with  a 
baleful  cloud.  "N"o  fury  like  a  woman  scorned,"  wrote 
one  who  seemed  to  know.  Her  face  darkened  like  a  thun- 
derstorm, and  from  its  cloud  her  eyes  shot  forked  light- 
ning. She  set  her  teeth,  and  clutched  her  little  fist  and 
shook  it  after  him,  hissing: 

"He  scorns  me  !  He  scorns  me !  Ah  !  he  may  scorn  my 
love !  Let  him  beware  of  my  hate !  He  will  not  meet  me 
as  a  friend,  but  he  will  serve  me  willingly !  Very  well.  He 
shall  be  often  called  upon  to  serve  me,  if  only  to  bring  him 
under  my  power !" 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MARY  grey's  maneuvers 

Mary  Grey  now  set  systematically  to  work. 
Partly  from  love  or  of  its  base  counterfeit,  partly  from 
hate,  but  mostly  from  vanity,  she  determined  to  devote 


60  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

every  faculty  of  mind  and  body  to  one  set  object — ^to  win 
Alden  Lytton's  love  back  again,  and  to  subjugate  him  to 
her  will. 

To  all  outward  seeming,  she  led  a  most  blameless  and 
beneficent  life. 

She  lived  with  the  bishop's  widow,  and  made  herself 
very  useful  and  agreeable  to  the  staid  lady,  who  refused 
to  take  any  money  for  her  board. 

And  although  the  house  was  full  of  students,  wlio 
boarded  and  lodged  and  spent  their  evenings  there,  with 
the  most  wonderful  self-government  she  forbore  ^'to  make 
eyes"  at  any  of  them. 

She  now  no  longer  said  in  so  many  words  that  "her 
heart  was  buried  in  the  grave,"  and  so  forth,  but  she  quietly 
acted  as  if  it  was. 

She  put  away  all  her  mourning  finery,  her  black  tulles 
and  silks,  and  bugles  and  jet  jewelry,  and  she  took  to  wear- 
ing the  plainest  black  alpacas  and  the  plainest  white  mus- 
lin caps.  She  looked  more  like  a  Protestant  nun  tlian  a 
"sparkling"  young  widow.  But  she  looked  prettier  and 
more  interesting  than  ever,  and  she  knew  it. 

She  was  a  regular  attendant  at  her  church;  going  twice 
on  Sunday,  and  twice  during  the  week. 

On  Sunday  mornings  she  was  always  sure  of  finding 
Alden  L}i;ton  in  his  seat,  which  was  in  full  sight  of  her 
own.  But  she  never  looked  toward  him.  She  was  content 
to  feel  that  he  often  looked  at  her,  and  that  he  could  not 
look  at  her  and  remain  quite  indifferent  to  her. 

She  was  also  an  active  member  of  all  the  parish  benevo- 
lent societies,  a  zealous  teacher  in  the  Sunday-school,  an  in- 
dustrious seamstress  in  the  sewing  circle,  and  a  regular 
visitor  of  the  poor  and  sick. 

Her  life  seemed  devoted  to  good  works,  apparently  from, 
the  love  of  the  Lord  and  the  love  of  her  neighbor. 

She  won  "golden  opinions"  from  all  sorts  of  men,  and 
women,  too.  Only  there  was  one  significant  circumstance 
about  her  popularity — she  could  not  win  the  love  of  chil- 
dren.    No,  not  with  all  her  beauty  and  grace  of  person. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  61 

and  sweetness  and  softness  of  tone  and  manner,  she  could 
not  win  the  children.  Their  sensitive  spirits  shrank  from 
the  evil  within  her  which  the  duller  souls  of  adults  could 
not  even  perceive.  And  many  an  innocent  child  was  sent 
in  disgrace  from  the  parlor  because  it  either  would  not  kiss 
"sweet  Mrs.  Grey"  at  all,  or  would  kiss  her  with  the  air  of 
taking  a  dose  of  physic. 

But  all  the  people  in  Charlottesville  praised  the  piety, 
and,  above  all,  the  prudence,  of  Mrs.  Ore}* — "Such  a  young 
and  beautiful  woman  to  be  so  entirely  weaned  from  world- 
liness  and  self-love,  and  so  absorbed  in  worship  and  good 
works !" 

All  this  certainly  produced  an  eifect  upon  Alden  Lytton, 
who,  of  course,  heard  her  praises  on  all  sides,  who  saw  her 
every  Sunday  at  church,  and  who  met  her  occasionally  at 
the  demure  little  tea-parties  to  which  both  might  happen 
to  be  invited. 

When  they  met  thus  by  chance  in  private  houses,  he 
would  bow,  and  say  quietly  : 

"Good-evening,  madam,"  a  salutation  which  she  would 
return  by  a  grave: 

"Good-evening,  sir." 

And  not  another  word  would  pass  between  them  during 
the  evening. 

But  all  the  young  man  observed  in  her  at  such  times 
was  a  certain  discreet  reserve,  which  he  could  but  approve. 

"She  seems  to  be  much  changed.  She  seems  to  be  truly 
grieved  for  the  past.  Perhaps  I  have  judged  her  too 
harshly.  And  yet  what  a  base  part  that  was  she  proposed 
to  play!  It  may  be  that  she  herself  did  not  know  how 
base  it  was.  Such  ignorance  would  prove  an  appalling 
moral  blindness.  But  then,  again,  should  she  be  held  re- 
sponsible for  her  moral  blindness?  It  sometimes  requires 
suffering  to  teach  the  nature  of  sin.  A  child  does  not 
know  that  fire  is  dangerous  until  it  burns  itself.  Her  suf- 
fering must  have  opened  her  eyes  to  the  "^exceeding  sin- 
fulness of  sin.'  For  her  own  sake,  I  hope  it  is  so.  As  for 
myself,  it  does  not  matter.     I  have  ceased  to  regard  her 


6^  VICTOR'S  TRIUjVIPH 

with  any  other  feeling  than  piety  and  charity.  And  al- 
though she  should  become  a  saint,  I  could  never  love  her 
again,"  he  said  to  himself  one  night,  after  passing  an  eve- 
ning with  her  at  one  of  the  professors'  houses. 

And  his  thoughts  reverted  to  that  lonely  maiden  whose 
golden  hair  formed  an  appropriate  halo  around  her  white 
brow,  and  whose  pure  soul  looked  frankly  forth  from  her 
clear  blue  eyes. 

He  was  not  in  love  with  Miss  Cavendish,  he  said  to 
himself,  but  he  could  not  help  feeling  the  difference  be- 
tween radiant  frankness  and  dark  deceit. 

One  evning,  about  this  time,  they  met  at  a  strawberry 
festival  held  in  the  lecture-room  of  the  church,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Sunday-school. 

While  the  festival  was  at  its  height  a  thunderstorm  came 
up,  with  a  heavy  shower  of  rain.  But  the  company  at  the 
festival  cared  little  about  that.  They  were  housed,  and 
enjoyed  themselves  with  light  music,  fruits,  flowers  and 
friends.  And  before  the  hour  of  separation  the  storm 
would  probably  be  over,  and  carriages,  or  at  least  water- 
proof cloaks,  overshoes  and  umbrellas,  would  be  in  attend- 
ance upon  every  one. 

So  they  made  merry  until  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  storm 
was  passing  away  with  a  steady,  light  rain. 

Every  lady  who  had  a  carriage  in  waiting  offered  to  give 
Mrs.  Grey  a  seat,  and  to  set  her  down  at  her  own  door. 

Mary  Grey  thanked  each  in  succession,  and  declined  the 
kind  offer,  adding  that  she  expected  some  one  to  come  for 
her. 

At  last  nearly  everybody  had  left  the  room  but  the  treas- 
urer of  the  festival,  who  was  counting  the  receipts,  and 
the  sexton,  who  was  covering  the  tables,  preparatory  to 
closing  for  the  night. 

Alden  Lytton  had  lingered  to  make  a  quiet  donation  to 
the  charity,  and  he  was  passing  out,  when  he  saw  Mary 
Grey  standing  shivering  near  the  door. 

As  he  came  up  to  her,  she  stepped  out  into  the  darkness 
and  the  rain. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  63 

He  hastened  after  her,  exclaiming : 

"Mrs.  Grey!    I  beg  your  pardon.    Are  you  alone?'' 

"Yes,  Mr.  Lytton/'  she  answered,  quietly. 

"And  you  have  no  umbrella!"  he  said,  quickly,  as  he 
hoisted  his  own  and  stepped  to  her  side. 

"Permit  me  to  see  you  safe  to  your  door.  Take  my 
arm.  It  is  very  dark,  and  the  walking  is  dangerous.  The 
sidewalks  are  turned  to  brooks  by  this  storm,"  he  added, 
as  he  held  his  umbrella  carefully  over  her. 

"I  thank  you  very  much,  Mr.  Lytton,  but,  indeed,  I  do 
not  wish  to  give  you  so  much  trouble.  I  can  go  home 
quite  well  enough  alone.  I  have  often  to  do  it,"  she  an- 
swered, shrinking  away  from  him. 

"It  is  not  safe  for  you  to  do  so,  especially  on  such  a 
night  as  this.  Will  you  take  my  arm?"  he  said,  and  with- 
out waiting  for  her  answer  he  took  her  hand  and  drew  it 
through  his  arm,  and  walked  on  with  her  in  silence,  won- 
dering at  and  blaming  the  heartlessness  of  the  ladies  of 
her  circle  who  had  carriages  in  attendance,  and  had,  as  he 
supposed,  every  one  of  them  gone  off  without  offering  this 
poor,  lonely  creature  a  seat,  leaving  her  to  get  home  through 
the  night  and  storm  as  she  could. 

As  they  walked  on,  he  felt  Mary  Grey's  arm  trembling 
upon  his  own,  and  involuntarily  he  drew  it  closer,  and  in 
so  doing  he  perceived  the  tremor  and  jar  of  her  fast-beat- 
ing heart,  and  he  pitied  her  with  a  deep,  tender,  manly 
pity. 

"I  am  afraid  you  feel  chilled  in  this  rain,"  he  said,  by 
way  of  saying  something  kind. 

"No,"  she  answered  softly,  and  said  no  more. 

They  got  to  the  door  of  her  dwelling,  and  he  rang  the 
bell  and  waited  there  with  her  until  s«me  one  should  come. 

"I  am  very  much  indebted  to  you,  Mr.  Lytton,"  she  said, 
softly  and  coolly,  "but  I  am  also  very  sorry  to  have  given 
you  so  much  trouble." 

"  I  assure  you  it  was  no  trouble ;  and  I  beg  that  you  will 
not  again  attempt  to  go  alone  at  night  through  the  streets 
of  Charlottesville,"  he  answered,  sadly. 


64  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"But  why?"  she  asked.  "What  harm  or  dangei  can 
there  be  in  my  doing  so?" 

"Ladies  never  go  out  alone  at  niglit  here.  Many  of  the 
wild  students  are  on  the  streets  at  night,  and  are  not  al- 
ways in  their  senses." 

"Oh,  I  see.  Well,  I  will  try  to  take  care  of  myself.  I 
hear  the  page  coming  to  open  the  door.  Good-night,  Mr. 
L}i;ton.  You  have  been  very  kind ;  I  thank  you  very  much/' 
said  Mrs.  Grey,  coldly. 

He  touched  his  hat  and  turned  away,  Just  as  the  door 
was  opened. 

Alden  Lytton  went  back  to  the  college  with  somewhat 
kinder  thoughts  of  Mary  Grey. 

And  Mrs.  Grey  went  into  the  house,  and  into  the  back 
parlor,  where  the  bishop's  widow  was  waiting  up  for  her. 

"Why,  my  dear,  your  shoes  are  wet  through  and  your 
skirts  are  draggled  up  to  your  knees?  Is  it  possible  you 
walked  home  through  the  rain?"  inquired  the  lady. 

"Yes,  madam;  but  it  will  not  hurt  me." 

"But  how  came  you  to  walk  home,  when  Mrs.  Dr.  Sage 
promised  faithfully  to  bring  you  home  in  her  carriage?" 

"  Oh,  my  dear  friend,  the  storm  came  up.  And  so  many 
people  were  afraid  of  wetting  their  feet,  I  gave  up  my  seat 
to  another  lady,"  answered  Mary  Grey. 

"Always  tlie  same  self-sacrificing  spirit!  Well,  my  dear, 
I  hope  your  reward  will  come  in  the  next  world,  if  not 
in  this.  Now  go  upstairs  and  take  off  your  wet  clothes, 
and  get  right  to  bed.  I  will  send  you  up  a  glass  of  hot 
spiced  wine,  which  will  prevent  you  from  taking  cold," 
said  the  hospitable  old  lady. 

Mary  Grey  kissed  her  hostess,  said  good-night,  and  ran 
away  upstairs  to  her  own  cozy  room,  where,  although  it 
was  May  time,  a  bright,  little  wood  fire  was  burning  in 
the  fireplace  to  correct  the  dampness  of  the  air. 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  her  silent  laugh,  as  she  began  to 
take  off  her  sodden  shoes,  "it  was  worth  tlie  wetting  to 
walk  home  with  Alden  Lytton,  and  to  make  one  step  of 
'Jiogress  toward  my  object" 


VICTOR'S  TRimiPH  65 

And  the  thought  comforted  her  more  than  did  the  silver 
mug  of  hot  spiced  wine  that  the  little  page  presently 
brought  her. 

A  few  days  after  this  she  met  Alden  Lytton  again,  by 
accFdent,  at  the  house  of  a  mutual  friend.  Alden  came  up 
to  her,  and  after  the  usual  greeting,  said : 

"I  have  received  a  short  note  from  Miss  Cavendish,  in- 
quiring of  me  whether  I  had  delivered  her  letter  to  you, 
and  saying  that  she  had  received  no  answer  from  you,  and 
indeed  no  news  of  you  since  your  departure  from  Blue 
Cliffs.  N'ow  if  I  had  not  supposed  that  you  would  have 
answered  Miss  Emma's  letter  immediately,  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  written  myself  to  relieve  her  anxiety  on  your 
account." 

"  Oh !  indeed,  I  beg  her  pardon  and  yours.  But  I  have 
sprained  the  forefinger  of  my  right  hand,  and  cannot  write 
at  all.  Otherwise  I  am  quite  well.  Pray  write  and  ex- 
plain this  to  Emma,  with  my  love,  and  my  promise  to 
write  to  her  as  soon  as  my  finger  gets  well,"  said  Mary 
Grey.  And  then  she  arose  to  take  leave  of  her  hostess, 
and  with  a  distant  bow  to  Alden  Lytton,  she  left  the  house. 

Two  days  after  this  she  received  a  very  kind  letter  from 
Miss  Cavendish,  expressing  much  regret  to  hear  of  her 
disabled  hand,  and  affectionately  inquiring  of  her  when  she 
should  return  to  Blue  Cliffs,  adding  that  Mrs.  Fanning 
had  arrived,  and  was  domiciled  at  the  house,  and  though  a 
widow  and  an  invalid,  she  was  a  very  agreeable  companion. 

This  letter  also  inclosed  a  check  for  the  amount  of  the 
quarterly  allowance  Emma  Cavendish  wasted  upon  Mary 
Grey.  "For  whether  you  abandon  us  or  not,  dear  Mrs. 
Grey,  or  wherever  you  may  be,  so  long  as  I  can  reach  you, 
I  will  send  you  this  quarterly  sum,  which  I  consider  yours 
of  right,"  she  wrote.  And  with  more  expressions  of  kind- 
ness and  affection  the  letter  closed. 

This  letter  was  a  great  relief  to  Mary  Grey's  anxiety; 
for  now  that  this  worshiper  of  mammon  was  sure  of  her 
income,  she  had  no  fears  for  her  future. 

But  she  dared  not  herself  answer  th«  letter.    While  Mrs. 


66  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Fanning  should  remain  at  Blue  Cliffs,  Mary  Grey  must  not 
let  her  handwriting  go  there,  lest  it  should  be  seen  and 
recognized  by  Fred  Tanning's  widow. 

But  the  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  Mrs.  Grey  went  to 
church,  taking  Emma's  letter  in  her  pocket. 

Usually  she  avoided  Alden  Lytton  on  these  occasions, 
refraining  even  from  looking  toward  him  during  the  church 
service  or  afterward,  for  she  did  not  wish  him  to  suppose 
that  she  sought  his  notice. 

But  now  she  had  a  fair  and  good  excuse  for  speaking 
to  him;  so  when  the  service  was  over,  and  the  congrega- 
tion was  leaving  the  church,  she  waited  at  the  door  of  her 
pew  until  Alden  passed  by,  when  she  said  very  meekly  and 
coolly : 

"Mr.  Lytton,  may  I  speak  with  you  a  moment?" 

"Certainly,  madam,"  said  Alden,  stopping  at  once. 

"I  have  a  letter  from  dearest  Emma,  but  I  cannot  an- 
swer it.  Ah,  my  poor,  crippled  finger !  Would  you  be  so 
very  kind  as  to  write  and  tell  my  darling  that  I  have  re- 
ceived it,  and  how  much  I  thank  her  ?  And  here,  perhaps, 
as  you  are  to  acknowledge  the  letter  for  me,  you  had  better 
read  it.  There  is  really  nothing  in  it  that  a  mutual  friend 
may  not  see,"  she  said,  drawing  the  letter  from  her  pocket 
and  putting  it  in  his  hand. 

"Certainly,  madam,  if  you  wish  me  to  do  so;  certainly, 
with  much  pleasure,"  answered  Alden  Lytton,  with  more 
warmth  than  he  had  intended;  because,  in  truth,  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  delight  in  every  subject  that  concerneii 
Emma  Cavendish,  and  he  was  now  especially  pleased  with 
having  the  privilege  of  reading  her  letter  and  the  duty  of 
acknowledging  it. 

"Many  thanks.  You  are  very  kind.  Good-morning," 
said  Mary  Grey,  with  discreet  coolness,  as  she  passed  on 
before  him  to  leave  the  church. 

"Step  No.  2.  I  shall  soon  have  him  in  my  power  again !" 
chuckled  the  coquette,  as  she  walked  down  the  street  toward 
her  dwelling. 

For  Mary  Grey  had  utterly  misinterpreted  the  warmth 


VICTOR'S  TRItnVIPH  67 

of  Alden  Lytton's  manner  in  acceding  to  her  request.  It 
never  entered  her  mind  to  think  that  this  warmth  had  any- 
thing to  do  with  the  idea  of  Emma  Cavendish.  She  was 
much  too  vain  to  be  jealous. 

She  did  not  really  think  that  there  was  a  man  in  the 
world  who  could  withstand  her  charms,  or  a  woman  in  the 
world  who  could  become  her  rival. 

And  certainly  her  personal  experience  went  far  to  eon- 
firm  her  in  that  vain  theory.  Therefore  she  did  not  fear 
Emma  Cavendish  as  a  rival. 

And  while  she  did  not  dare  to  write  to  Blue  Cliffs,  she 
did  not  hesitate  to  make  Alden  L^'tton  the  medium  of 
communication  with  Emma  Cavendish. 

Her  other  lover,  the  counterpart  of  Alden  Lytton,  had 
not  appeared  since  he  had  called  on  her  on  his  first  visit 
to  Charlottesville. 

But  he  wrote  to  her  six  times  a  week,  and  she  knew" 
what  he  was  doing — he  was  trying  hard  to  settle  up  his 
business  at  Wendover,  with  the  distant  hope  of  removing 
to  Charlottesville,  and  opening  a  store  there. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN  THE  TOILS 

Affairs  went  on  in  this  way  for  one  year  longer.  Emma 
Cavendish  continued  to  write  regularly  to  Mrs.  Grey,  telling 
her  all  the  little  household  and  neighborhood  news.  Among 
the  rest,  she  told  how  Mrs.  Fanning,  by  her  gentleness  and 
patience,  was  winning  the  affections  of  all  the  household, 
and  especially  of  Madam  Cavendish,  who  had  been  most 
of  all  prejudiced  against  her;  and  how^  much  the  invalid^s 
health  was  improving. 

"She  will  never  be  perfectly  well  again;  but  I  think, 
with  proper  care,  and  under  Divine  Providence,  we  may 
succeed  in  preserving  her  life  for  many  years  longer." 


68  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Now,  as  Mar}^  Grey  could  not  venture  to  return  to  Blue 
Cliffs,  or  even  write  a  letter  to  that  place  with  her  own 
hand,  so  long  as  Mrs.  Fanning  should  live  in  the  house, 
the  prospect  of  her  doing  either  grew  more  and  more  re* 
mote. 

She  could  not  plead  her  sprained  finger  forever  as  an 
excuse  for  not  writing ;  so  one  day  she  put  on  a  very  tight 
glove,  and  buttoned  it  over  her  wrist,  and  then  took  a 
harder  steel  pen  than  she  had  ever  used  before,  and  she 
sat  down  and  wrote  a  few  lines  by  way  of  experiment.  It 
was  perfectly  successful.  Between  the  tight-fitting  glove 
and  the  hard  steel  pen  her  handwriting  was  so  disguised 
that  she  herself  would  never  have  known  it,  nor  could  any 
expert  ever  have  detected  it.  So  there  was  no  possible  dan- 
ger of  any  one  at  Blue  Cliffs  recognizing  it  as  hers. 

Then  with  this  tightly  gloved  hand  and  this  hard  steel 
pen  she  sat  down  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Emma  Cavendish, 
saying  that  she  could  no  longer  deny  herself  the  pleasure 
of  writing  to  her  darling,  though  her  finger  was  still  so 
stiff  that  she  wrote  with  great  difficulty,  as  might  be  seen 
in  the  cramped  and  awkward  letters,  "all  looking  as  if 
they  had  epileptic  fits,"  she  jestingly  added. 

When  Miss  Cavendish  replied  to  this  letter,  she  said  that 
indeed  Mrs.  Grey's  hand  must  have  been  very  severely 
sprained,  and  tjiat  she  herself  would  never  have  known  the 
writing. 

After  this,  all  Mrs.  Grey's  letters  to  Miss  Cavendish 
were  written  by  a  hand  buttoned  up  in  a  tight  glove,  and 
with  a  hard  steel  pen,  and  continued  to  be  stiff  and  un- 
recognizable. 

And  in  all  Emma's  answers  there  was  surprise  and  regret 
expressed  for  the  long-continued  lameness  of  Mary  Grey's 
right  hand. 

One  day  Emma  communicated  a  piece  of  neighborhood 
gossip  that  quite  startled  Mary  Grey. 

"You  will  be  sorry  to  hear,"  she  wrote,  "that  our  ex- 
cellent pastor.  Dr.  Goodwin,  has  had  a  paral}i;ic  stroke 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  69 

that  disables  him  from  preaching.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle, 
formerly  of  Richmond,  is  filling  his  pulpit." 

Mary  Grey  was  very  much  interested  in  this  piece  of 
news,  that  her  old  admirer  should  be  even  temporarily  lo- 
cated so  near  Blue  Cliffs,  with  the  possibility  of  his  being 
permanently  settled  there. 

She  had  not  heard  from  this  devoted  clerical  lover  once 
since  she  left  Mount  Ascension.  She  did  not  understand 
his  sudden  withdrawal,  and  she  had  often,  with  much  men- 
tal disquietude,  associated  his  unexpected  estrangement 
with  her  own  unceremonious  dismissal  from  her  situation 
as  draT\dng  mistress  at  that  academy. 

It  is  true  that  when  they  corresponded,  in  answer  to  his 
ardent  love  letters,  she  would  write  only  such  kind  and 
friendly  notes  that  could  never  have  compromised  her  in 
any  way,  even  if  they  should  have  been  read  in  open  court 
or  published  in  a  Sunday  newspaper. 

And  he  had  sometimes  complained  of  the  formal  friend- 
liness of  these  letters  from  one  for  whom  he  had  truly  pro- 
fessed the  most  devoted  love,  and  who  had  also  promised 
to  be  his  wife — if  ever  she  was  anybody's. 

But  Mr.  Grey  had  artfully  soothed  his  wounded  affec- 
tion without  departing  from  her  prudential  system  of  writ- 
ing only  such  letters  as  she  would  not  fear  to  have  fall  in 
the  hands  of  any  living  creature,  until  suddenly  he  ceased 
to  write  at  all. 

At  the  time  of  this  defection  she  had  been  too  much 
taken  up  with  her  purpose  of  winning  the  affections  of  the 
wealthy  and  distinguished  statesman.  Governor  Cavendish, 
to  pay  much  attention  to  the  fact  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle's 
falling  away. 

But  in  these  later  and  calmer  days  at  Blue  Cliffs  and  at 
Charlottesville,  she  had  pondered  much  on  the  circum- 
stance, in  connection  v/ith  her  simultaneous  dismissal  from 
her  situation  at  Mount  Ascension;  and  she  thought  it  all 
but  too  likely  that  Mr.  Lyle  had,  like  Mrs.  St.  John,  learned 
something  of  her  past  life  so  much  to  her  disadvantage 
as  to  induce  him  to  abandon  her. 


70  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

And  now  to  have  him  so  near  Bhie  Cliffs  as  Wendover 
parish  church,  seemed  dangerous  to  Mary  Grey^s  interests 
with  the  Cavendish  family. 

Sometimes  the  unhappy  woman  seemed  to  think  that 
the  net  of  Fate  was  drawing  around  her.  Mrs.  Fanning 
was  at  Blue  Cliffs.  Mr.  Lyle  was  at  Wendover.  What 
next? 

Why,  next  she  got  a  letter  from  Emma  Cavendish  that 
struck  all  the  color  from  her  cheeks,  and  all  the  courage 
from  her  soul. 

Miss  Cavendish,  after  telling  the  domestic  and  social 
news  of  the  week,  and  adding  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle  was 
now  settled  permanently  at  Wendover,  as  the  assistant  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Goodwin,  whose  health  continued  to  be  in- 
firm, wrote: 

"And  now,  dearest  Mrs.  Grey,  I  have  reserved  the  best 
news  for  the  last. 

"Laura  Lytton  and  Electra  have  left  school  ^for  good.' 
They  will  arrive  here  this  evening  on  a  visit  of  some  months. 

"Next  week  we  are  all  going  to  Charlottesville,  to  be 
present  at  the  commencement  of  the  Law  College,  when  Mr. 
Alden  Lytton  expects  to  take  his  degree. 

"Aunt  Fanning,  whose  health  is  much  improved,  will 
accompany  us  as  our  chaperon,  and  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle  will 
escort  us. 

"So  you  see,  my  dear  Mrs.  Grey,  though  you  will  not 
come  to  us,  we  will  go  to  you. 

"But  we  will  form  quite  a  large  party.  And  I  know  that 
Charlottesville  will  receive  an  inundation  of  visitors  for  the 
Commencement,'  and  that  there  will  be  a  pressure  upon 
all  the  hotels  and  boarding-houses.  Therefore  I  will  ask 
you  to  be  so  good  as  to  seek  out  and  engage  apartments  for 
us.  There  will  be  four  ladies  and  one  gentleman  to  be  ac- 
commodated; we  shall  want  at  least  three  rooms — one  for 
Mr.  Lyle,  one  for  Aunt  Fanning  and  myself,  and  one  for 
Laura  and  Electra.  We  want  our  rooms  all  in  the  same 
house,  if  possible;  if  not,  then  Mr.  Lyle  can  be  accommo- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  71 

dated  apart  from  the  rest;  but  we  women  must  remain 
together. 

*' Please  see  to  it  at  once,  and  write  and  let  me  know, 

"By  the  way,  after  Mr.  Lytton  takes  his  degree,  he  will 
make  us  a  short  visit  at  Blue  Cliffs ;  after  which  he  will  go 
to  Richmond  to  commence  the  practice  of  law,  where  he 
thinks  the  prestige  of  his  father's  name,  and  I  think  his 
own  talents,  will  speedily  advance  him  to  fame  and  fortune. 

*'But  what  am  I  telling  you?  That  of  which  you  prob- 
ably know  much  more  than  I  do ;  for  of  course  Mr.  Lytton 
must  have  informed  you  of  his  plans. 

"We  confidently  hope  to  persuade  you  to  accompany  us 
when  w^e  go  back  to  Blue  Cliffs.  Our  summer  party  will 
be  such  a  pleasant  one ;  there  will  be  Laura,  Electra,  Mrs. 
Grey  and  Aunt  Fanning  among  the  ladies,  and  Kt.  Lyle, 
Mr.  Lytton  and  Dt.  Jones  among  the  gentlemen.  I  shall 
have  your  rooms  made  ready  for  you." 

There  was  much  more  of  kind  and  affectionate  plan- 
ning for  the  summer's  work  and  pleasure.  But  Mary  Grey 
read  no  further.  Dropping  the  letter  upon  her  lap,  she 
clasped  her  hands  and  raised  her  pale  face  toward  heaven, 
hurmuring : 

"She  is  coming  here.  I  dare  not  meet  her.  I  must  go 
iway  again.  I  am  hunted  to  death !  I  am  hunted  to 
ieath!  I  was  hunted  from  Blue  Cliffs,  and  now  I  am 
ihunted  from  Charlottesville!  Where  shall  I  go  next?  To 
Richmond?  Yes,  of  course,  to  Riclmiond.  And  there  I 
will  stay.  For  there  is  room  to  hide  myself  from  any  one 
I  do  not  wish  to  see.  And  in  a  few  weeks  he  will  go  to 
Richmond  to  settle  there  permanently.  But  I  will  go  some 
weeks  in  advance  of  him,  so  that  he  will  never  be  able  to 
say  that  I  followed  him  there !" 

Having  formed  this  resolution,  Mary  Grey  then  set  about 
immediately  to  engage  lodgings  for  the  Blue  Cliffs  party. 

She  knew  that  her  hostess,  the  bishop's  widow,  had  one 
vacant  room;  that  would  accommodate  two  of  the  ladies, 
\nd  therefore  she  resolved  to  make  a  virtue  of  her  neces- 


72  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

sities,  and  give  up  her  own  room  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  other  two. 

She  proposed  this  plan  to  her  hostess,  who  at  first  op- 
posed the  self-sacrifice,  as  she  called  it.  But  finally,  being 
persuaded  by  Mary  Grey,  she  yielded  the  point,  and  fer- 
vently praised  the  beautiful,  unselfish  spirit  of  her  young 
guest,  who  was  ever  ready  to  sacrifice  her  own  comfort  for 
the  convenience  of  others. 

Mary  Grey  then  wrote  to  Miss  Cavendish,  telling  her 
of  the  arrangement,  and  then  explaining : 

"You  must  know,  my  dear  girl,  that  my  health  is  not 
improved.  For  the  last  twelve  months  it  has  been  growing 
steadily  worse.  My  nervous  system  is  shattered.  I  cannot 
bear  noise,  or  tumult,  or  excitement.  I  dread  even  to  meet 
strangers.  Therefore  I  think  I  shall  go  away,  and  stay 
during  this  carnival  of  a  "^Commencement.'  I  hope  that  you 
and  Laura  will  occupy  my  vacant  chamber.  The  chamber 
adjoining  is  already  vacant,  and  I  have  engaged  it  for  Mrs. 
Fanning  and  Electra.  I  know  I  have  paired  your  party 
differently  from  your  pairing;  but  then  I  like  the  thought 
of  having  you  and  Laura  in  my  deserted  chamber.  I  think 
I  shall  go  to  some  very  quiet  village  far  from  the  bustle  of 
company.  Forgive  me  for  not  remaining  to  meet  you,  and 
set  me  down  as  very,  very  nervous,  or,  if  that  will  not 
excuse  me  in  your  eyes,  set  me  down  as  crazy;  but  never, 
never  as  ungrateful  or  unloving.  Mary. 

"P.  S. — Mr.  Lyle  must  find  accommodations  at  the 
hotel.^' 

Having  finished,  sealed  and  dispatched  this  letter,  Mary 
Grey  went  to  work  and  packed  her  three  great  trunks  for 
her  journey.  That  kept  her  busy  all  the  remainder  of  the 
day. 

The  next  morning  she  dressed  herself  and  went  to  call 
upon  her  friends  and  bid  them  good-by.  They  were  very 
much  surprised  at  the  suddenness  of  her  departure;  but  she 
explained  to  one  and  all  that  she  rather  wished  to  avoid 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  73 

the  crowd,  bustle  and  confusion  of  commencement  week, 
and  had  therefore  determined  to  leave  town  for  a  few  days, 
and  that  her  rooms  with  the  bishop's  widow  would  be  occu- 
pied in  the  meantime  by  her  friend  Miss  Cavendish  of  Blue 
Cliffs  and  party. 

This  made  an  impression  upon  all  minds  that  "sweet 
Mrs.  Grey,"  with  her  spirit  of  self-sacrifice,  had  left  town 
at  this  most  interesting  period,  for  no  other  reason  than  to 
give  up  her  quarters  to  her  friends. 

Lastly  Mary  Grey  went  to  her  pastor,  and  obtained  from 
him  a  letter  to  the  pastor  of  St.  John's  Church  in  Rich- 
mond. 

Furnished  with  this  she  would  obtain  entrance  into  the 
most  respectable  society  in  the  city,  if  she  desired  to  do  so. 

On  the  third  day  from  this,  Mrs.  Grey  left  Charlottes- 
ville for  Richmond. 


CHAPTER  XV 

AN  OLD  FACE  REAPPEARS 

What  the  Carnival  is  to  Rome,  and  the  Derby  is  to  Lon- 
don, the  commencement  week  of  its  great  university  is  to 
the  little  country  town  of  Charlottesville. 

It  is  looked  forward  to  for  weeks  and  months.  A  few 
days  previous  to  commencement  week  the  little  town  be- 
gins to  fill.  The  hotels  and  boarding-houses  are  crowded 
with  the  relatives  and  friends  of  the  students  and  pro- 
fessors, and  even  with  numbers  of  the  country  gentry,  who 
though  they  may  have  no  relative  at  the  university,  yet  take 
an  interest  in  the  proceedings  of  commencement  week. 

Emma  Cavendish  and  her  friends  were  therefore  pecu- 
liarly fortunate  in  having  had  comfortable  apartments  pre- 
engaged  for  them. 

It  was  late  on  the  evening  of  the  Monday  beginning  the 


74j  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

important  "week"  that  they  arrived  at  Charlottesville,  and 
proceeded  at  once  to  the  house  of  the  bishop's  widow. 

They  found  the  house  hospitably  lighted  up,  and  open. 

Their  hostess,  a  dignified  gentlewoman,  received  them 
with  great  cordiality,  and  rather  as  guests  than  as  lodgerp. 

She  showed  the  ladies  to  the  two  communicating  rooms 
on  the  first  floor  that  they  were  to  occupy — large,  airy, 
pleasant  rooms,  with  a  fresh  breeze  blowing  from  front 
to  back.  Each  room  had  two  neat,  white-draped  single 
beds  in  it. 

"If  you  please,  Mrs.  Wheatfield,  which  of  these  was  Mrs. 
Grey's  apartment?"  inquired  Emma  Cavendish. 

"This  back  room  overlooking  the  flower  garden.  But 
as  the  front  room  was  unoccupied,  she  had  the  use  of  that 
also,  whenever  she  wished  it,"  answered  the  bishop's  widow. 

"I  was  very  sorry  to  hear  from  her  by  letter  that  she 
would  not  be  able  to  remain  here  to  receive  us,"  said  Miss 
Cavendish. 

"Ah,  my  dear,  I  was  just  as  sorry  to  have  her  go  away. 
A  sweet  woman  she  is,  Miss  Cavendish,"  answered  Mrs. 
Wheatfield. 

■^^Why  did  she  go?  Is  her  health  so  very  bad,  Mrs. 
Wheatfield?" 

"My  dear,  I  think  that  her  malady  is  more  of  the  mind 
than  of  the  body.  But  I  believe  that  she  went  away  only 
to  give  up  these  rooms  to  you  and  your  friends,  because 
there  were  no  other  suitable  rooms  to  be  obtained  for  you 
in  Charlottesville." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  that ;  for  indeed  I  and  my  com- 
panions would  rather  have  given  up  our  journey  than  have 
turned  Mary  Grey  out  of  her  rooms.  It  was  really  too  great 
a  sacrifice  on  her  part,"  said  Emma  Cavendish,  regretfully. 

"My  dear,  that  angel  is  always  making  sacrifices,  for 
that  matter.  But  I  do  think  that  this  sacrifice  did  not  cost 
her  much.  Love  made  it  light.  I  feel  sure  she  was  de- 
lighted to  be  able  to  give  up  her  quarters  to  friends  who 
could  not  in  any  other  way  have  been  accommodated  iu 
the  town,"  said  the  bishop's  widow,  politely. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  75 

"I  am  sorry,  however,  not  to  have  met  her,"  murmured 
Emma  Cavendish. 

''And  now,  ladies,  here  are  the  apartments.  Arrange 
as  to  their  occupancy  and  distribution  among  yourselves 
as  you  please,"  said  the  hostess,  as  she  nodded  pleasantly 
and  left  the  room. 

The  ladies  had  brought  but  little  luggage  for  their  week's 
visit,  and  it  had  already  arrived,  and  was  placed  in  their 
rooms. 

They  washed,  dressed  their  hair,  changed  their  travel- 
ing suits  for  evening  dresses,  and  went  down  into  the  par- 
lor, where  they  found  Alden  Lytton — who  had  wa^^'ed  over 
from  the  university  to  meet  his  sister — in  cor  :;rsation 
with  Mr.  Lyle. 

There  was  quite  a  joyous  greeting.  But  Alden  had  to 
be  introduced  to  Mrs.  Fanning,  who  had  changed  so  much 
in  the  years  that  had  passed  since  their  last  meeting  that 
the  young  man  would  never  have  known  her  again. 

But  every  one  remarked  that  when  the  lady  and  the  stu- 
dent were  introduced  to  each  other  their  mutual  agitation 
could  not  be  concealed.  And  every  one  marveled  about  its 
cause. 

Alden  Lytton  found  fair  Emma  Cavendish  more  beau- 
tiful than  ever,  and  he  now  no  longer  tried  to  deny  to  him- 
self the  truth  that  his  heart  was  devoted  to  her  in  the 
purest,  highest,  noblest  love  that  ever  inspired  man. 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Lytton,  where  Mrs.  Grey  has  gone? 
She  did  not  tell  me  in  her  letter  where  she  intended  to  go ; 
I  believe  she  had  not  then  quite  made  up  her  mind  as  to 
her  destination,"  said  Miss  Cavendish. 

"I  was  not  aware  of  her  departure  until  I  learned  it 
from  Mrs.  Wheat JSeld  this  evening,"  answered  Alden  L\i;- 
ton. 

"Then  no  one  knows.  But  I  suppose  we  shall  learn  when 
we  hear  from  her,"  said  Emma,  with  a  smile. 

Then  Alden  produced  cards  for  the  commencement,  with 
tickets  enclosed  for  reserved  seats  in  the  best  part  of  the 
hall,  which  he  had  been  careful  to  secure  for  his  party. 


76  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

These  he  gave  into  the  charge  of  Mr.  Lyle,  who  was  to 
attend  the  ladies  to  the  university. 

And  then,  as  it  was  growing  late,  the  two  gentlemen 
arose  and  took  leave. 

They  left  the  house  together,  and  walked  down  the  street 
as  far  as  the  corner,  where  Alden  Lytton  paused,  and  said : 

"Our  ways  separate  here,  I  am  sorry  to  say.  I  have  to 
walk  a  mile  out  to  the  university.  Your  hotel  is  about 
twenty  paces  up  the  next  street,  on  your  right.  You  will 
Be  sure  to  find  it."  And  Alden  lifted  his  hat  and  was  abouc 
to  stride  rapidly  away,  when  Mr.  Lyle  laid  his  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  said: 

"On©  moment.  I  did  not  know  our  paths  parted  so  soon, 
or  I  mi^Bt  have  spoken  as  we  left  the  house.  The  fact  is,  I 
have  a  very  large  sum  of  money — ten  tlicusand  dollars — 
sent  me  to  be  paid  to  you  as  soon  as  you  shall  have  taken 
3^our  degree.  It  is  to  be  employed  in  the  purchase  of  a  law 
library,  and  in  the  renting  and  furnishing  of  a  law  office 
in  the  best  obtainable  location.  I  wish  to  turn  this  money 
over  to  you  as  soon  as  possible." 

"It  is  from  my  unknown  guardian,  I  presume,"  said 
Alden,  gravely. 

"Yes,  it  is  from  your  unknown  guardian." 

"Then  we  will  talk  of  this  after  the  commencement.  I 
hardly  know,  ]\Ir.  Lyle,  whether  I  ought  to  accept  anything 
more  from  this  lavish  benefactor  of  ours.  I  may  never  be 
able  to  ve'psLY  what  we  already  owe  him." 

"You  need  have  no  hesitation  in  accepting  assistance 
from  this  man,  as  I  have  often  assured  you.  But  as  you 
sajf  we  will  talk  of  this  some  other  time,  when  we  have 
more  leisure.     Good-night !" 

And  the  gentlemen  separated;  Alden  Lytton  striding 
westward  toward  the  university,  and  Mr.  Lyle  walking 
thoughtfully  toward  his  hotel. 

His  room  had  been  secured,  and  his  key  was  in  his 
pocket,  so  that  he  possessed  quite  an  enviable  advantage 
over  the  crowd  of  improvident  travelers  who  thronged  tl)e 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  77 

office  clamoring  for  quarters,  and  not  half  of  whom  could 
by  any  possibility  be  accommodated. 

As  it  was  long  after  the  minister's  usual  hour  for  retir- 
ing, he  walked  through  the  crowded  office  into  the  hall, 
and  up  the  stairs  to  his  room — a  very  small  chamber,  with 
one  window  and  a  single  bed,  both  window  and  bed  neatly 
draped  with  white. 

Mr.  Lyle  sat  down  in  a  chair  by  the  one  little  table,  on 
which  stood  a  bright  brass  candlestick  with  a  lighted  sper- 
maceti candle,  and  he  took  from  his  pocket  a  small  Bible, 
which  he  opened  with  the  intention  of  reading  his  custom- 
ary chapter  before  going  to  bed,  when  a  rap  at  his  door 
surprised  him. 

''Come  in,"  he  said,  supposing  that  only  a  country  waiter 
had  come  with  towels  or  water,  or  some  other  convenience. 

The  door  opened,  and  a  waiter  indeed  made  his  appear- 
ance.   But  he  only  said : 

"A  gemman  for  to  see  yer,  sah!"  and  ushered  in  a 
stranger,  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

Mr.  Lyle,  much  astonished,  stared  at  the  visitor,  whom 
he  thought  he  had  never  seen  before. 

The  stranger  was  a  tall,  finely  formed,  dark-complex- 
ioned and  very  handsome  man,  notwithstanding  that  his 
raven  hair  was  streaked  with  silver,  his  brow  lined  by 
thought,  and  his  fine  black  eyes  rather  hollow.  A  full 
black  beard  nearly  covered  the  lower  part  of  his  face. 

''Mr.  Lyle,'^  said  the  visitor,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"That  is  my  name,  sir;  but  you  have  the  advantage  of 
me,"  said  the  minister. 

"You  do  not  know  me?"  inquired  the  stranger  in  sad 
surprise. 

"I  do  not,  indeed." 

'^I  am  Victor  Hartman." 


78  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

CHAPTER  XVI 

THE  RETURNED  EXILE 

"Victor  Hartman  !^'  exclaimed  Mr.  Lyle,  in  a  tone  of 
astonishment  and  joy,  as  he  sprang  from  his  chair  and 
grasped  both  the  hands  of  the  traveler  and  shook  them 
heartily — "Victor  Hartman!  My  dear  friend,  I  am  so  do- 
lighted — and  so  surprised  to  see  you !  Sit  down ;  sit  down," 
he  continued,  dragging  forth  a  chair  and  forcing  his  visitor 
into  it.  "But  I  never  should  have  known  you  again,"  he 
concluded,  gazing  intently  upon  the  bronzed,  gray,  tall, 
broad-shouldered  man  before  him. 

"I  am  much  changed,"  answered  the  stranger,  in  a  deep, 
mellifluous  voice,  that  reminded  the  hearer  of  sweet, 
solemn  church  music. 

"  Changed !  Why  you  left  us  a  mere  stripling !  You 
return  to  us  a  mature  man.  To  all  appearance,  you  might 
be  the  father  of  the  boy  who  went  away,"  said  the  minis- 
ter, still  gazing  upon  the  stranger. 

"And  yet  the  time  has  not  been  long;  though  indeed  I 
have  lived  much  in  that  period,"  said  the  traveler,  in  the 
same  rich,  deep  tone,  and  with  a  smile  that  rendered  his 
worn  face  bright  and  handsome  for  the  moment. 

"Well,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  But  how  is  it  that  I 
have  this  joyful  surprise  ?"  inquired  the  minister. 

"What  brings  me  here,  you  would  ask;  and  why  did  I 
not  write  and  tell  you  that  I  was  coming?"  said  Hartman, 
with  an  odd  smile.  "Well,  I  will  explain.  When  I  got 
your  letter  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  the  last  remit- 
tance I  sent  to  you  for  my  children,  I  learned  for  the  first 
time  by  that  same  letter  that  my  boy  would  graduate  at 
this  commencement,  and  hoped  to  take  the  highest  honors 
of  his  college.  Well,  a  steamer  was  to  sail  at  noon  that 
very  day.  I  thought  I  would  like  to  be  present  at  the  com- 
mencement, and  see  my  boy  take  his  degree.     I  packed 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  79 

my  trunk  in  an  hour,  embarked  in  the  Porte  d'Or  in  an- 
other hour,  and  here  I  am." 

"That  was  prompt.    When  did  you  arrive?" 

"Our  steamer  reached  New  York  on  Thursday  noon.  I 
took  the  night  train  for  Washington,  where  I  arrived  at 
five  on  Friday  morning.  I  took  the  morning  boat  for 
Aquia  Creek,  and  the  train  for  Richmond  and  Charlottes- 
ville.   I  got  here  about  noon." 

"And  you  have  not  seen  your  proteges f* 

"Yes,  I  have  seen  my  boy  pass  the  hotel  twice  to-day. 
I  knew  him  by  his  likeness  to  his  unfortunate  father.  But 
I  did  not  make  myself  known  to  him.  I  do  not  intend  to 
do  so,  at  least  not  at  present." 

"Why  not?" 

"Why  not?"  echoed  Hartman,  sorrowfully.  "Ah  !  would 
he  not  shrink  from  me  in  disgust  and  abhorrence?" 

"No;  not  if  he  were  told  the  awful  injustice  that  has 
been  done  you." 

"But  if  he  were  told,  would  he  believe  it?  We  have  no 
proof  that  any  injustice  has  been  done  me,  except  those 
anonymous  letters  and  the  word  of  that  strange  horseman 
who  waylaid  me  on  my  tramp  and  thrust  a  bag  of  gold  in 
my  hands,  with  the  words,  *You  never  intended  to  kill 
Henry  Lytton,  and  you  never  killed  him.  Some  one  else 
intended  to  kill  him,  and  some  one  else  killed  him." 

"Have  you  ever  heard  anything  more  of  that  mysterious 
horseman?" 

"Not  one  word." 

"Have  you  no  suspicion  of  his  identity?" 

"None  beyond  the  strong  conviction,  that  I  feel  that  he 
himself  was  the  homicide,  and  the  writer  of  the  anony- 
mous letters." 

"Well,  I  cannot  tell  you  why,  but  I  always  felt  per- 
suaded of  your  innocence,  even  before  the  coming  of  those 
anon}Tnous  letters,  and  even  while  you  were  bitterly  ac- 
cusing yourself." 

"You  knew  it  from  intuition — inward  teaching." 

"May  I  ask  you,  Hartman,  why  after  you  discovered 


80  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

that  you  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  death  of  Henry  Lyt- 
ton,  you  still  determined  to  burden  yourself  with  the  sup- 
port and  education  of  his  children — a  duty  that  was  first 
assumed  by  you  as  an  atonement  for  an  irreparable  injury 
you  supposed  you  had  done  them?" 

"Why  I  still  resolved  to  care  for  them  after  I  learned 
that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  great  loss  ?  Indeed  1 
cannot  tell  3^ou.  Perhaps — partly  because  I  sympathized 
with  them  in  a  sorrow  that  was  common  to  us  all,  in  so  far 
as  we  all  suffered  from  the  same  cause ;  partly,  I  also  think, 
because  it  was  pleasant  to  have  some  one  to  live  for  and 
work  for;  partly  because  I  was  so  grateful  to  find  myself 
free  from  blood-guiltiness,  that  I  wished  to  educate  those 
children  as  a  thank-offering  to  Heaven !  It  was  also  very 
pleasant  to  me  to  think  of  this  boy  at  college  and  this  girl 
at  school,  and  to  hope  that  some  day  they  might  come  to 
look  upon  me  with  affection,  instead  of  with  horror.  And 
then  I  took  so  much  pride  in  talking  to  my  brother  miners 
about  my  son  at  the  university,  and  my  daughter  at  the 
academy !  And  then,  again,  your  letters — every  one  of 
them  telling  of  the  progress  my  children  made,  and  the 
credit  they  were  doing  me.  I  tell  you,  sir,  all  this  was  a 
great  comfort  to  me,  and  made  me  feel  at  home  in  this 
strange,  lonesome  world,"  said  the  exile,  warmly. 

"Hartman,  you  have  a  noble  soul !  You  must  have  made 
a  very  great  pecuniary  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  these  young 
people,"  said  the  minister,  earnestly. 

"No,  sir;  no  sacrifice  at  all.  That  was  the  strangest 
part  of  it;  for  it  seemed  to  me  the  more  I  gave,  the  more 
I  had." 

"How  was  that?" 

"I  don't  know  how  it  was,  sir;  but  such  was  the  fact. 
But  I  will  tell  you  what  I  do  know  " 

"Yes,  tell  me,  Hartman." 

"You  may  remember,  Mr.  Lyle,  that  when  I  told  you  I 
was  going  back  to  California,  I  explained  to  you  tliat  I 
knew  a  place  where  I  felt  sure  money  was  to  be  made." 

"Yes,  I  remember." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  81 

"Well,  sir,  the  place  was  a  gully  at  tlie  foot  oi  a  certain 
spur  of  the  mountains,  called  the  Red  Cleft.  Now,  at 
that  time  I  knew  very  little  of  geology.  I  know  more  now. 
Also,  I  had  but  little  experience  in  mining  and,  moreover, 
whenever  I  mentioned  Red  Ridge  I  was  simply  laughed 
at  by  my  mates.  I  was  laughed  out  of  giving  the  place  a 
fair  trial.  But  even  after  I  left  the  Gold  State,  the  idea 
of  the  treasure  hidden  in  the  gully  at  the  foot  of  Red  Ridge 
haunted  me  day  and  night;  something  always  prompting 
me  to  go  back  there  and  dig.  Sir,  it  was  intuition — inward 
teaching.  When  I  went  back  to  California,  I  made  for 
Red  Ridge.  Sir,  when  I  first  went  to  Red  Ridge,  I  dug 
there  eight  weeks  without  finding  gold.  That  was  the  time 
my  mates  laughed  at  me.  When  I  next  went  back — the 
time  I  now  speak  of — I  worked  four  hours  and  then  struck 
— struck  one  of  the  best-paying  mines  in  the  Gold  State. 
It  is  worked  by  a  company  now,  but  I  have  half  of  all  the 
shares." 

"You  have  been  wonderfully  blessed  and  prospered, 
Hartman." 

"Yes,'-'  said  the  traveler,  reverently  bowing  his  head, 
"for  their  sakes  I  have." 

"And  for  your  own,  I  trust,  Hartman." 

"]\rr.  Lvle?" 

"Well,  Hartman." 

"May  I  ask  you  a  favor?" 

"Certainly  you  may." 

"You  addressed  all  your  letters  to  me  under  the  name 
of  Joseph  Brent." 

"Yes,  certainly,  at  your  request." 

"Continue,  then,  to  call  me  Joseph  Brent.  That  name 
is  mine  bv  act  of  Legislature." 

"Indeed!" 

"Yes,  and  I  have  a  still  better  claim.  It  was  the  name 
of  my  grandfather — my  mother's  father.  It  was  also  the 
name  of  his  eldest  son,  my  uncle,  who  died  recently  a 
bachelor,  in  the  State  of  Missouri,  and  left  me  his  farm 
there,  on  condition  that  I  should  take  his  name.     I  was 


S2  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

more  anxious  to  have  his  name  than  his  estate.  So  I  ap- 
plied to  the  Legislature,  and  the  name  that  I  had  bor- 
rowed so  long  became  my  own  of  right. '^ 

"So  I  am  to  introduce  you  to  my  young  friends  as  Mr. 
Joseph  Brent?" 

"Yes,  if  you  please.  Let  the  name  of  poor  Victor  Hart- 
man  sink  quietly  into  the  grave.  And  do  not  let  them 
know  that  I  was  Victor  Hartman,  or  that  Joseph  Brent 
was  ever  their  benefactor,"  said  the  exile,  gravely. 

"I  will  keep  your  counsel  so  long  as  you  require  me  to 
do  so,  hoping  that  the  time  may  speedily  come  when  all 
shall  be  made  as  clear  to  these  young  people  as  it  is  to 
me." 

"Now  when  will  you  introduce  me  to  my  children?" 

"To-morrow,  after  the  ceremonies  are  concluded.  But, 
my  friend,  it  is  a  little  strange  to  hear  you  call  these  grown- 
up young  people  your  children,  when  you  yourself  can  be 
but  little  older  than  the  young  man." 

"In  years,  yes.  But  in  long  experience,  suffering, 
thought,  how  much  older  am  I  than  he  is !  You  yourself 
said  that,  to  all  outward  appearance,  I  might  be  the  father 
of  the  boy  who  went  away  a  few  years  ago." 

"  Yes,  for  you  are  very  much  changed ;  not  only  in  your 
person,  but  in  dress  and  address." 

"You  mean  that  I  speak  a  little  more  correctly  than  I 
used  to  do  ?  Well,  sir,  in  these  few  years  all  the  time  that 
was  not  spent  in  work  was  spent  in  study.  Or  rather,  as 
study  was  to  me  the  hardest  sort  of  work,  it  would  be 
most  accurate  to  say,  all  the  time  not  spent  by  me  in 
manual,  was  spent  in  mental  labor.  I  had  had  a  good 
public  school  education  in  my  boyhood.  I  wished  to  re- 
cover all  I  had  lost,  and  to  add  to  it.  You  see,  Mr.  Lyle, 
I  did  not  want  my  boy  and  girl  to  be  ashamed  of  me  when, 
if  ever,  we  should  meet  as  friends,"  said  Hartman,  with 
his  old  smile. 

"That  they  could  never  be.  Any  other  than  grateful 
and  affectionate  they  could  never  be  to  you — if  I  know 
them." 


VICTOR'S  TRroMPH  83 

"I  believe  that,  too.  I  believe  my  children  will  love  me, 
when  they  understand  all." 

"Be  sure  they  will.  But,  Hartman — by  the  way,  I  like 
the  name  of  Hartman,  and  I  hope  you  will  let  me  use  it 
when  we  are  alone,  on  condition  that  I  promise  never  to 
use  it  when  we  are  in  company." 

"As  you  please,  Mr.  Lyle." 

"Then,  Hartman,  I  was  about  to  say  that  when  I  hear 
you  speak  of  Henry  Lytton's  son  and  daughter  as  your  boy 
and  girl,  the  wonder  comes  over  me  as  to  whether  you  never 
think  of  marriage — of  a  wife  and  children  of  your  own." 

"  Mr.  Lyle,  since  my  m.other  went  away  to  heaven  I  have 
never  felt  any  interest  in  any  woman  on  earth.  I  have 
been  interested  in  some  girls,  but  they  happened  to  be  chil- 
dres ;  and  I  could  count  them  with  the  fingers  of  one  hand, 
and  have  a  finger  or  two  left  over.  Let  me  see,"  said  Hart- 
man, with  his  odd  smile.    "First  there  was  Sal's  Kid." 

"Sal's  Kid?"  echoed  the  minister,  who  had  never  heard 
the  name  before,  but  thought  it  a  very  eccentric  one. 

"Yes,  Sal's  Kid — a  wild-eyed,  elf-locked,  olive-skinned 
little  imp,  nameless,  but  nicknamed  Sal's  Kid,  who  lived 
in  a  gutter  called  Rat  Alley,  down  by  the  water-side  in 
^Now  York.  I  used  to  be  fond  of  the  child  when  I  was 
cook's  galley-boy,  and  our  ship  was  in  port  there.  I  haven't 
seen  her  for  ten  years,  yet  I've  never  forgotten  her.  And 
I  would  give  a  great  deal  to  know  whatever  became  of  Sal's 
Kid.  Probably  she  has  gone  the  way  of  the  rest.  They 
were  all  beggars,  thieves,  or  worse,"  added  Hartman,  with 
a  deep  sigh. 

"And  the  next?"  inquired  the  minister,  with  a  wish  to 
recall  his  visitor  from  sorrowful  thoughts. 

"The  next  girl  that  interested  me,"  continued  Hartman, 
looking  up  with  a  bright  smile,  as  at  the  recollection  of 
some  celestial  vision,  "was  as  different  from  this  one  as 
the  purest  diamond  from  a  lump  of  charcoal.  She  was  a 
radiant  blonde,  with  golden  hair  and  sapphire  eyes,  and  a 
blooming  complexion.  In  the  darkest  hour  of  my  life  she 
appeared  to  me  a  heavenly  messenger !     They  were  lead- 


S4  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

ing  me  from  the  courthouse  to  the  jail,  after  my  sentence. 
I  was  passing  amid  the  hooting  crowd,  bowed  down  with 
despair,  when  this  fair  vision  beamed  upon  me  and  dis- 
persed the  furies.  She  looked  at  me  with  heavenly  pity 
in  her  eyes.  She  spoke  to  me  and  told  me  to  pray,  and 
said  that  she,  too,  would  pray  for  me.  At  her  look  and 
voice  the  jeerinor  crowd  fell  back  in  silence.  I  thought  of 
tliat  picture  of  Dore's  where  the  celestial  visitant  dispersed 
the  fiends.    I  have  never,  never  seen  her  since." 

"And  you  do  not  know  who  she  was?" 

"Her  companions  called  h^r  ^Emma.'  That  is  all  I 
know." 

"The  third  girl  in  whom  you  became  interested?" 

"Is  my  child  Laura  Lytton,  whom  I  have  never  seen. 
During  the  weeks  I  was  in  Mr.  Lytton's  law  office  I  never 
once  beheld  his  son  or  daughter." 

"Then  personally  you  are  a  stranger  to  both?" 

"Yes,  personally  I  am  a  stranger  to  both.  But  to-mor- 
row I  hope  to  know  them,  although  I  cannot  be  perfectly 
made  known  to  them.  Remember,  Mr.  Lyle,  I  do  not  wish 
them  to  know  that  I  was  ever  Victor  Hartman,  or  that 
Joseph  Brent  was  ever  their  benefactor." 

"I  will  remember  your  caution.  But  I  will  hope,  as  I 
said  before,  far  the  time  when  they  shall  know  and  esteem 
you  as  I  know  and  esteem  you." 

"Your  confidence  in  me  has  been,  and  is,  one  of  my 
greatest  earthly  supports,"  said  Hartman,  earnestly,  as  he 
arose  to  bid  his  friend  good-night. 

Long  after  his  visitor  had  left  him,  Mr.  Lyle  sat  at  his 
window  in  an  attitude  of  deep  thought. 

The  unexpected  meeting  with  Victor  Hartman  had  de- 
prived him  of  all  power  or  wish  to  sleep. 

He  sat  at  the  window  watching  the  crowd  that  throns^ed 
the  village  streets  with  his  outward  eyes,  but  reviewing  all 
the  past  with  his  inner  vision.  It  was  long  after  midnight 
before  he  retired. 


VICTOR'S  TRimiPH  85 

CHAPTER  XVII 

VICTOR  MEETS  HIS  CHILDREN 

The  next  morning  revealed  the  full  measure  of  the 
crowd  that  filled  the  little  country  town  to  overflowing. 
And  the  road  leading  from  the  village  westward  to  the 
university  was  crowded  with  foot  passengers,  horsemen 
and  carriages  of  every  description. 

Those  who  had  no  reserved  seats  set  out  early,  to  secure 
the  most  eligible  of  the  unreserved  places. 

The  ceremonies  were  to  commence  at  twelve  noon. 

Our  party,  consisting  of  Emma  Cavendish,  Laura  Lyt- 
ton,  Electra  Coroni,  Mrs.  Fanning,  Mrs.  Wheatfield,  and 
Dr.  Jones,  occupied  the  whole  of  the  third  form  from  the 
front. 

They  were  in  their  places  just  a  few  moments  before 
the  overture  was  played. 

The  hall  was  crowded  to  overflowing.  Not  only  was 
every  form  filled,  but  chairs  had  to  be  set  in  the  space  be- 
tween the  audience  and  the  orchestra,  and  also  in  the  mid- 
dle and  side  aisles,  to  accommodate  ladies  who  could  not 
otherwise  be  seated ;  while  every  foot  of  standing  room  was 
occupied  by  gentlemen. 

Mr.  Lyle  had  given  up  his  seat  next  to  Laura  Lytton,  in 
favor  of  a  lady,  and  had  explained  to  his  party  that  he  had 
a  friend  from  San  Francisco  who  was  present,  and  with 
whom  he  could  stand  up. 

And  he  went  away  and  took  up  his  position  in  a  corner 
below  the  platform,  beside  Victor  Hartman,  but  entirely 
out  of  the  range  oi  his  party's  vision. 

I  will  not  weary  my  readers  with  any  detailed  account 
of  this  commencement,  which  resembled  all  other  college 
commencements  in  being  most  interesting  to  those  most 
concerned. 

There  was  an  overture  from  a  new  opera. 

Then  there  was  an  opening  oration  by  one  of  the  learned 


86  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

professors  of  the  universit}^  which  was  voted  by  the  savants 
to  be  a  masterpiece  of  erudition  and  eloquence,  but  which 
the  young  people  present  found  intolerably  dull  and  stupid. 

And  when  the  great  man  sat  down,  a  storm  of  applause 
followed  him. 

Then  ensued  the  usual  alternation  of  opera  music  and 
orations. 

And  the  young  people  listened  to  the  opera  music,  and 
yawned  behind  their  fans  over  the  orations. 

And  the  savants  gave  heed  to  the  orations,  and  closed 
their  senses,  if  not  their  ears,  to  the  music. 

At  length  the  time  for  the  distribution  of  the  diplomas 
arrived,  and  the  names  of  the  successful  graduates  were 
called  out,  and  each  in  turn  went  up  to  receive  his  diploma, 
and  make  the  customary  deep  bow,  first  to  the  faculty,  and 
then  to  the  audience. 

Then  followed  the  offertory  of  beautiful  bouquets  and 
baskets  of  flowers  from  friends,  to  the  graduates.  But 
the  most  beautiful  offering  there,  was  a  basket  of  delicate 
silver  wire  filled  with  fragrant  pure  white  lilies  sent  by 
Emma  Cavendish  to  Alden  Lytton. 

Laura  Lytton,  in  a  patriotic  mood,  sent  a  bouquet  com- 
posed of  red,  white  and  blue  flowers  only. 

The  other  ladies  of  the  party  sent  baskets  of  geraniums. 

The  valedictory  address  was  delivered  by  Alden  Lytton, 
who  had,  besides,  taken  the  highest  honors  of  his  college. 

His  address  was  pronounced  to  be  a  great  success.  And 
his  retiring  bow  was  followed  by  thunders  of  applause  from 
the  audience. 

There  were  several  proud  and  happy  fathers  there  that 
day ;  but  perhaps  the  proudest  and  the  happiest  man  pres- 
ent was  Victor  Hartman. 

With  tearful  eyes  and  tremulous  tones  he  said,  as  he 
grasped  Mr.  Lyle's  arm : 

"  My  boy  pays  me  for  all !  My  boy  pays  me  for  all !  He 
is  a  grand  fellow!" 

The  people  were  all  going  out  then. 

"Come/''  said  Mr.  Lyle,  himself  moved  by  the  generous 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  87 

emotion  of  Victor.  "Come,  and  let  me  in  ^'oduce  you  to 
your  bo3\" 

"No,  not  now.  Let  me  go  away  by  m-^  jelf  for  a  little 
while.  I  will  see  you  an  hour  later  at  *3ie  hotel,''  said 
Hartman,  as  he  wrung  his  friend's  hand  ?,nd  turned  away. 

Mr.  Lyle  joined  his  party,  with  whom  he  found  the  most 
honored  graduate  of  the  da}^,  who  was  holding  his  silver 
basket  of  lilies  in  his  hand  and  warmly  thanking  the  fair 
donor. 

Mr.  Lyle  shook  hands  with  Alden,  and  heartiiy  con- 
gratulated him  on  his  collegiate  honor:',  adding: 

"We  shall  see  you  on  the  bench  yet,  Mr.  Lytton." 

Alden  bowed,  and  laughingly  repli^  that  he  should  feel 
it  to  be  his  sacred  duty  to  get  there,  if  he  could,  in  order 
to  justify  his  friend's  good  opinion. 

"But  what  have  you  done  with  your  Calif ornian,  Mr. 
Lyle?"  inquired  Laura  Lytton. 

"Sent  him  back  to  his  hotel.  By  the  way,  ladies,  he  is 
a  stranger  here.  Will  you  permit  me  to  bring  him  to  see 
you  this  evening?" 

"Certainly,  Mr.  Lyle,"  promptly  replied  Emma  Caven- 
dish, speaking  for  all. 

But  then  she  gave  a  questioning  glance  toward  her  aunt, 
the  chaperon  of  the  young  party. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Fanning,  in  answer  to  that  glance. 
"Of  course  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle's  introduction  is  a  sufficient 
passport  for  any  gentleman  to  any  lady's  acquaintance." 

Mr.  Lyle  bowed,  and  said: 

"Then  I  will  bring  him  at  eight  o'clock  this  evening." 

And  with  another  bow,  he  also  left  the  party  and  hurried 
off  to  the  hotel. 

That  evening,  at  eight  o'clock,  the  three  young  ladies 
were  seated  alone  together  in  the  front  drawing-room  of 
their  boarding-house.  Their  elderly  friends  were  not  pres- 
ent. 

Dr.  Jones  was  dining  at  the  college  with  Alden  Lytton 
and  his  fellow-grad'^stes. 


88  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

]\ri's.  Fanning,  fatigued  with  the  day's  excitement,  had 
retired  to  a  dressing-gown  and  sofa  in  her  own  room. 

Mrs.  Wheatfield  was  in  consultation  with  her  cook  con- 
cerning the  next  day's  bill  of  fare. 

Thus  the  three  beauties  were  left  together,  and  very 
beautiful  they  looked. 

Emma  Cavendish,  the  ^'radiant  blonde,  with  the  golden 
hair  and  sapphire  eyes,  and  blooming  complexion,''  was 
dressed  in  fine  pure  white  tulle,  with  light  blue  ribbons. 

Electra,  the  wild-eyed,  black-haired,  damask-cheeked 
brunette,  was  dressed  in  a  maize-colored  silk,  with  black 
lace  trimmings. 

Laura  Lytton,  the  stout,  wholesome,  brown-haired  and 
brown-eyed  lassie,  wore  a  blue  barege  trimmed,  like  Elec- 
tra's  dress,  with  black  lace. 

The  room  was  brilliant  with  gaslight,  and  they  were 
waiting  for  their  friends  and  visitors. 

Dr.  Jones  had  promised  to  return,  and  bring  Alden  with 
him,  by  eight  o'clock  at  least.  And  Mr.  Lyle  had  promised 
to  come  and  bring  ''the  Calif ornian." 

The  clock  struck  eight  and  with  dramatic  punctuality 
the  bell  rang. 

The  next  moment  the  little  page  of  the  establishment 
opened  the  drawing-room  door,  and  announced: 

"Mr.  Lyle  and  a  gemman." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

AN  INTRODUCTION 

The  three  young  ladies  looked  up,  to  see  Mr.  Lyle  enter 
the  room,  accompanied  by  a  tall,  finely  formed,  dark-com- 
plexioned man,  with  deep  dark  eyes,  and  black  hair  and 
full  black  beard,  both  lightly  streaked  with  silver,  which, 
together  with  a  slight  stoop,  gave  him  the  appearance  of 
being  much  older  than  he  really  was. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  89 

Mr.  Lyle  bowed  to  the  young  ladies,  and  then,  taking 
hxis  companion  up  to  Emma  Cavendish,  he  said,  with  old- 
fashioned  formality : 

'•Miss  Cavendish,  permit  me  to  present  to  you  my  friend, 
Mr.  Brent,  of  San  Francisco." 

^'I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Brent,"  said  the  young  lady, 
with  a  graceful  bend  of  her  fair  head. 

But  in  an  instant  the  Californian  seemed  to  have  lost  his 
self-possession. 

He  stared  for  a  moment  almost  rudely  at  the  young  lady ; 
he  turned  red  and  pale,  drew  a  long  breath;  then,  with  an 
effort,  recovered  himself,  and  bowed  deeply. 

Miss  Cavendish  was  surprised,  but  she  was  too  polite  and 
self-possessed  to  let  her  surprise  appear.  She  mentally 
ascribed  the  disturbance  of  her  visitor  to  some  passing 
cause. 

Mr.  Lyle,  who  had  not  noticed  his  companion's  agitation, 
now  presented  him  to  Laura  L}i;ton  and  to  Electra  Coroni. 

To  Laura  he  bowed  gravely  and  calmly. 

But  when  he  met  the  wild  eyes  of  Electra,  he  started 
violently,  and  exclaimed : 

"Sal's "  then  stopped  abruptly,  bowed,  and  took  the 

chair  that  his  friends  placed  for  him. 

He  sat  in  perfect  silence,  while  Emma  Cavendish,  pity- 
ing, without  understanding  his  awkwardness,  tried  to  make 
conversation,  by  introducing  the  subject  of  California  and 
the  gold  mines. 

But  Victor  Hartman  replied  with  an  effort,  and  fre- 
quently and  furtively  looked  at  Emma,  and  looked  at  EleC' 
tra,  and  then  put  his  hand  to  his  head  in  a  perplexed  man- 
ner. 

At  length  his  embarrassment  becam.e  obvious,  even  to 
unobservant  Mr.  Lyle,  who  longed  for  an  opportunity  of 
asking  him  what  was  the  matter. 

But  before  that  opportunity  came,  there  was  another 
ring  at  the  street  doorbell,  followed  by  the  entrance  of 
Dr.  Jones  and  Alden  Lytton. 

The  last  comers  greeted  the  young  ladies  and  Mr.  Lyle, 


90  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

and  acknowledged  the  presence  of  the  stranger  with  a  dis- 
tant bow. 

But  then  Mr.  Lyle  arose,  and  asked  permission  to  intro- 
duce his  friend,  Mr.  Brent,  of  California. 

And  Dr.  Jones  and  Mr.  Lytton  shook  hands  with  the 
Calif ornian,  and  welcomed  him  to  Virginia. 

Then  Alden  Lytton,  who  had  some  dim  dreams  of  going 
to  California  to  commence  life,  with  the  idea  of  one  day 
becoming  Chief  Justice  of  the  State,  began  to  draw  the 
stranger  out  on  the  subject. 

Victor  Hartman,  the  unknown  and  unsuspected  bene- 
factor, delighted  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  *'his  boy,'' 
and  to  learn  all  his  half-formed  wishes  and  purposes,  talked 
freely  and  enthusiastically  of  the  Gold  State,  and  its  re- 
sources and  prospects. 

"If  all  that  I  have  heard  about  the  condition  of  society 
out  there  be  true,  however,  it  must  be  a  much  better  place 
for  farmers  and  mechanics,  tradesmen  and  laborers,  than 
for  professional  men." 

"What  have  you  heard,  then,  of  the  condition  of  society 
out  there  ?"  inquired  Victor. 

"Well,  I  have  heard  that  the  climate  is  so  healthy  that 
the  well  who  go  there  never  get  sick,  and  the  sick  who  go 
there  get  well  without  the  doctor's  help.  And  furthermore, 
that  all  disputes  are  settled  by  the  fists,  the  bowie-lmife, 
or  the  revolver,  without  the  help  of  a  lawyer,  judge  or  jury  ! 
So  you  see,  if  all  that  is  told  of  it  is  true,  it  is  a  bad  place 
for  lawyers  and  doctors." 

"  'It  all  that  is  told  of  it  is  true?'  There  is  not  a  word 
of  it  true!  It  is  all  an  unpardonable  fabrication,"  said 
Victor  Hartman,  so  indignantly  and  solemnly,  that  Aklen 
burst  out  laughing  as  he  answered : 

"Oh,  of  course  I  know  it  is  an  exaggeration.  1  did 
think  of  trying  my  fortune  in  the  Gold  State;  but  upon 
reflection  I  have  decided  to  devote  my  poor  talents  to  my 
mother  State,  Virginia.  And  not  until  she  practically  dis- 
owns me,  will  I  desert  her !" 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  91 

"Well  said,  my  dear  bo — I  mean,  Mr.  Lytton,"  assented 
the  Californian. ' 

He  had  begun  heartily,  but  ended  by  correcting  himself 
with  some  embarrassment. 

Alden  looked  up  for  an  instant,  a  little  surprised  by  his 
disturbance;  but  ascribed  it  to  the  awkwardness  of  a  man 
long  debarred  from  ladies'  society,  as  this  miner  seemed 
to  have  been. 

Gradually  Victor  Hartman  recovered  his  composure,  and 
talked  intelligently  and  fluently  upon  the  subject  of  gold 
mining,  Chinese  emigration,  and  so  forth. 

Only  when  he  would  chance  to  meet  the  full  gaze  of 
Electra's  "wild  eyes,"  or  catch  the  tones  of  Emma's  mel- 
lifluous voice,  then,  indeed,  he  would  show  signs  of  dis- 
turbance. He  would  look  or  listen,  and  put  his  hand  to  his 
forehead  with  an  expression  of  painful  perplexity. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  gentlemen  arose  to  bid  the  young 
ladies  good-night. 

It  was  then  arranged  that  the  whole  party  should  visit 
the  university  the  next  day,  and  go  through  all  the  build- 
ings on  a  tour  of  inspection. 

WTien  the  visitors  had  gone,  Electra  suddenly  inquired: 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  the  Californian?" 

"I  think  him  very  handsome,"  said  Laura,  "but  de- 
cidedly the  most  awkward  man  I  ever  saw  in  all  the  days 
of  my  life.  Except  in  the  matter  of  his  awkwardness  he 
seems  to  be  a  gentleman." 

"  Oh !  that  is  nothing.  One  of  the  most  distinguished 
men  I  ever  met  in  my  father's  house — a  gentleman  by  birth, 
education  and  position,  a  statesman  of  world-wide  renown 
— was  unquestionably  the  most  awkward  human  being  I 
ever  saw  in  my  life.  He  knew  very  well  how  to  manage 
men  and  nations,  but  he  never  knew  what  to  do  with  his 
feet  and  hands;  he  kept  shujGBing  them  about  in  the  most 
nervous  and  distracting  manner,"  said  Emma  Cavendish, 
in  behalf  of  the  stranger. 

"Somehow  or  other  that  man's  face  haunts  me  like  a 
ghost,"  mused  Electra,  dreamily. 


92  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"So  it  does  me,"  quickly  spoke  Emma.  "I  feel  sure  that 
I  have  met  those  sad,  wistful  dark  eyes  somewhere  before." 

"I'll  tell  you  both  what.  Whether  you  have  ever  met 
him  before  or  not,  he  thinks  he  has  seen  you.  He  seemed 
to  me  to  be  trying  to  recollect  where,  all  the  evening,"  said 
Laura  Lytton,  with  her  air  of  positiveness. 

"Then  that  might  account  for  his  awkwardness  and  em- 
barrassment," added  Emma. 

"But  he  is  certainly  very  handsome,"  concluded  Elec- 
tra,  as  she  took  her  candle  to  retire. 

Meanwhile  the  four  gentlemen  walked  down  the  street 
together  to  a  corner,  where  they  bade  each  other  good- 
night and  separated — Dr.  Jones  and  Alden  Lytton  to  walk 
out  to  the  university,  and  Mr.  Lyle  and  Victor  Hartman 
to  go  to  their  hotel. 

"What  on  earth  was  the  matter  with  you,  Victor?"  in- 
quired Mr.  Lyle,  as  they  walked  on  together. 

"What?"  exclaimed  Hartman,  under  his  breath,  and 
stopping  short  in  the  street. 

"  Yes,  what !  I  never  saw  a  man  so  upset  without  an 
adequate  cause  in  all  my  life." 

"Don't  let  us  go  into  the  house  yet,"  said  Victor,  for 
they  were  now  before  the  door  of  the  hotel.  "It  is  only 
ten  o'clock,  and  a  fine  night.  Take  a  turn  with  me  down 
some  quiet  street,  and  I  will  tell  you." 

"Willingly,"  agreed  Mr.  Lyle,  and  they  walked  past  the 
hotel  and  out  toward  the  suburbs  of  the  little  town. 

"Mr.  Lyle,  I  have  seen  them  both!"  exclaimed  Victor, 
when  they  were  out  of  hearing  of  every  one  else. 

"Both?  Whom  have  you  seen,  Hartman?"  inquired  the 
minister  a  little  uneasily,  as  if  he  feared  his  companion  was 
not  quite  sane. 

"First,  I  have  seen  again  the  heavenly  vision  that  ap- 
peared and  dispersed  the  furies  from  around  me  on  that 
dark  day  when  I  passed,  a  condemned  criminal,  from  the 
courthouse  to  the  jail,"  replied  Victor  Hartman,  with 
emotion. 

"Hartman,  my  poor  fellow,  are  you  mad?" 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  93 

"No;  but  it  was  enough  to  make  me  so.  To  meet  one 
of  them,  whom  I  never  expected  to  see  again  in  this  world, 
would  have  been  enough  to  upset  me  for  a  while.  But  to 
meet  both,  and  to  meet  them  together,  who  were  so  widely 
apart  in  place  and  in  rank,  I  tell  you  it  was  bewildering! 
I  felt  as  if  I  was  under  the  influence  of  opium,  and  in  a 
delightful  dream  from  which  I  should  soon  awake.  I  did 
not  quite  believe  it  all  to  be  real.  I  do  not  quite  believe 
it  to  be  so  yet.  Have  I  seen  that  celestial  visitant  again?" 
he  inquired,  putting  his  hand  to  his  head  in  the  same  con- 
fused manner. 

"Now,  which  one  of  these  young  ladies  do  you  take  to 
have  been  your  'celestial  visitant,'  as  you  absurdly  call 
her?" 

"Oh,  the  fair,  golden-haired,  azure-eyed  angel,  robed  so 
appropriately  in  pure  white !" 

"That  was  Miss  Emma  Cavendish,"  said  Mr.  Lyle,  very 
uneasily;  "and  you  talk  of  her  like  a  lover,  Hartman — and 
like  a  very  mad  lover,  too.  But,  oh,  I  earnestly  implore 
you,  do  not  become  so  very  mad,  so  frenzied  as  to  let  your- 
self love  Emma  Cavendish.  By  birth,  education  and  for- 
tune, she  is  one  of  the  first  young  ladies  in  the  country, 
and  a  bride  for  a  prince.  Do  not,  I  conjure  you,  think  of 
loving  her  yourself !" 

Victor  Hartman  laughed  a  little  light  laugh,  that  seemed 
to  do  him  good,  as  he  answered : 

"Do  not  be  afraid.  I  worship  her  too  much  to  think 
of  loving  her  in  the  way  you  mean.  And,  besides,  if  I 
am  not  greatly  mistaken,  my  boy  has  been  before  me." 

"Alden  Lytton?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  saw  it  all.  I  was  too  much  interested  not 
to  see  it.  My  boy  and  my  angel  like  one  another.  Heaven 
bless  them  both  !  they  are  worthy  of  each  other.  They  will 
make  a  fine  pair.  He  so  handsome ;  she  so  beautiful !  He 
so  talented ;  she  so  lovely !  His  family  is  quite  as  good  as 
hers.  And  as  for  a  fortune,  his  shall  equal  hers!"  said 
Victor,  warmly. 


94.  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"Will  you  give  away  all  your  wealth  to  make  your  b«y 
happy?"  inquired  Mr.  Lyle,  with  some  emotion. 

"Xo!  The  Red  Cleft  mine  is  not  so  easily  exhausted. 
Besides,  in  any  case,  I  should  save  something  for  my  girl. 
She  must  have  a  marriage  portion,  too !" 

"You  really  ought  to  have  a  guardian  appointed  by  the 
court  to  take  care  of  you  and  your  money,  Victor.  You 
will  give  it  all  away.  And,  seriously,  it  grieves  me  to  see 
you  so  inclined  to  rob  yourself  so  heavily  to  enricli  others, 
even  such  as  these  excetlent  young  people,"  said  Mr.  Lyle, 
with  feeling. 

"Be  easy.  When  I  have  enriched  them  both,  I  shall 
still  have  an  unexhausted  gold  mine!  By  the  way,  par- 
son !  parson !" 

"Well,  Hartman?" 

"I  saw  something  else  besides  the  love  between  my  angel 
and  my  boy.  I  saw — saw  a  certain  liking  between  my  girl 
and  my  friend." 

If  the  bright  starlight  had  been  bright  enough,  Victor 
Hartman  might  have  seen  the  vivid  blush  that  mantled 
all  over  the  ingenuous  face  of  Stephen  Lyle. 

"I  certainly  admire  Miss  Lytton  very  much.  She  is  a 
genuine  girl,"  said  Mr.  Lyle,  as  composedly  as  if  his  face 
was  not  crimson. 

"And  I  see  she  certainly  admires  you  very  much.  She 
evidently  thinks  you  are  a  genuine  man.  So,  my  dear 
friend,  go  in  and  win.  And  my  girl  shall  not  miss  her 
marriage  portion,"  said  Hartman,  co^diall)^ 

Mr.  Lyle  was  beginning  to  feel  a  little  embarrassed  at 
the  turn  the  conversation  had  taken,  so  he  hastened  to 
change  it,  by  saying: 

"You  told  me  tliat  you  had  met  them  both  whom  you 
never  had  expected  to  see  again  in  this  world.  One  was 
Miss  Cavendish,  your  ^heavenly  vision ;'  who  was  the  other?" 

"Can  you  be  at  a  loss  to  know?  There  were  but  three 
young  ladies  present.  My  own  girl,  whom  I  went  to  see, 
and  did  not  expect  to  meet ;  Miss  Cavendish,  whom  you  have 
jQst  identified  as  one  of  the  two  alluded  to,  and  the  bril- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  95 

liant  little  creature  whom  you  introduced  by  a  heatlien 
sort  of  name  which  I  have  forgotten." 

"Miss  Electra?" 

"Ay,  that  was  the  name;  but  however  you  call  her,  I 
knew  her  in  Rat  Alley  as  Sal's  Kid." 

"V^hat!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lyle,  stopping  short  and  trying 
to  gaze  through  the  darkness  into  the  face  of  his  com- 
panion; for  Mr.  Lyle  had  never  happened  to  hear  of  the 
strange  vicissitudes  of  Electra's  childhood. 

"She  is  SaPs  Kid,  I  do  assure  you.  Her  face  is  too 
unique  ever  to  be  mistaken.  I  could  never  forget  or  fail 
to  recognize  those  flashing  eyes  and  gleaming  t€€th.  And 
I  tell  you,  I  would  rather  have  found  her  again  as  I  found 
her  to-night  than  have  discovered  another  gold  mine  as 
rich  as  that  of  Red  Cleft." 

"Hartman,  you  were  never  more  deceived  in  your  life. 
That  young  lady,  Electra  Coroni,  is  the  granddaughter  of 
Dr.  Beresford  Jones,  and  is  the  sole  heiress  of  Beresford 
Manors.  She  was  educated  at  the  Mount  Ascension  Acad- 
emy for  Young  Ladies  in  this  State,  from  which  she  has 
just  graduated." 

"Whoever  she  is,  or  whatever  she  is,  or  wherever  she 
lives  now,  when  I  knew  her  she  was  Sal's  Kid,  and  lived 
in  Rat  Alley,  New  York.  And  she  knew  me  as  Galley 
Vick,  the  ship  cook's  boy." 

"Hartman,  you  have  certainly  'got  a  bee  in  your  bon- 
net !'  " 

"We  shall  see.  She  almost  recognized  me  to-night.  She 
will  quite  know  me  soon,"  answered  Victor,  as  they  turned 
their  steps  toward  their  hotel. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

VICTOR  AND  ELECTEA 

The  next  morning  at  the  appointed  hour,  the  Rev.  Mr. 

Lyle  and  Victor  Hartman  left  their  hotel  together,  and 
went  to  Mrs.  Wheatfield's,  to  escort  the  ladies  to  the  uni- 


96  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

versity,  where  Dr.  Jones  and  Aid  en  L}i;ton  were  to  meet 
them  and  introduce  them  to  the  president.  The  two  gen- 
tlemen found  the  ladies  already  dressed  and  waiting. 

Miss  Cavendish  explained  that  her  aunt  did  not  care 
about  seeing  more  of  the  university  than  she  had  already 
seen,  and  preferred  to  remain  in  the  house  with  the  bishop's 
widow  and  rest  that  day. 

And  so,  under  the  circumstances,  they — Miss  Cavendish 
and  her  young  friends — had  decided  not  to  have  a  car- 
riage, but  to  take  advantage  of  the  fine  morning  and  walk 
the  short  mile  that  lay  between  the  village  and  its  great 
seat  of  learning. 

]^othing  could  have  pleased  their  escorts  better  than  this 
plan. 

And  soon  they — the  party  of  five — set  out  upon  the 
pleasant  country  road  that  led  out  to  the  university. 

Emma  Cavendish  and  Laura  Lytton  led  the  way,  and 
by  Laura's  side  walked  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle.  Electra  dropped 
a  little  behind,  and  was  attended  by  Victor  Hartman. 

They  talked  of  the  fine  morning  and  of  the  beautiful 
country,  of  the  grand  commencement  of  the  preceding  day 
and  of  the  university  they  were  going  to  see,  but  they  talked 
in  an  absent-minded  manner,  as  if,  indeed,  they  were  both 
thinking  of  something  else. 

This  lasted  until  they  were  half  way  to  the  place,  when 
at  length  Electra  turned  suddenly  upon  Victor,  and  said : 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Brent,  that  your  face  seems  a  very 
familiar  one  to  me?" 

"Indeed!"  said  Victor,  bending  his  head  nearer  to  her. 

"Yes,  indeed.  Your  face  struck  me  as  being  familiar 
the  first  moment  I  saw  you,  and  this  impression  has  grown 
deeper  every  moment  we  have  been  walking  together ;  and 
now  I  know  of  whom  you  remind  me,"  answered  Electra. 
And  then  she  paused  and  looked  at  him. 

He  made  no  remark. 

"You  do  not  care  to  know  who  that  was,  it  seems,"  she 
said. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  9T 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do,  I  assure  you.  Miss  Coroni,  if  you  please 
to  tell  me." 

"Then  you  remind  me  of  a  poor  lad  whom  I  once  knew 
and  liked  very  much  in  New  York,  when  I  was  as  poor 
as  himself,'^  said  Electra,  meaningly. 

"It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  remember  the  poor  lad,  after 
so  many  years  and  so  many  changes,''  replied  Victor. 

"I  wonder  if  that  poor  lad  ever  thinks  of  me,  'after  so 
many  years  and  so  many  changes  V  "  murmured  Electra, 
musingly. 

"I  don't  know.  Tell  me  his  name,  and  then  perhaps  I 
can  answer  your  question.  I  have  roamed  around  the  world 
a  good  deal,  and  seen  a  great  many  different  sorts  of  people. 
Who  knows  but  I  may  have  met  your  poor  lad?  Let  us 
have  his  name,"  said  Victor,  gravely. 

They  were  both,  to  use  a  household  phrase,  "beating 
about  file  bush." 

"Oh,  he  was  too  poor  to  own  a  name.  But  he  was 
cook's  boy  on  board  a  merchantman,  and  they  called  him 
'Galley  Vick.'  I  never  knew  him  by  any  other  name.  Did 
you  ever  see  him  at  all?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I've  seen  him !  A  good-for-nothing  little  vag- 
abond he  was !  N'o,  I  don't  suppose  he  ever  dares  to  think 
about  such  a  fine  young  lady  as  you  are.  But  he  cherishes 
the  memory  of  a  poor  little  girl  he  once  knew  in  Eat 
Alley,  New  York.  And  only  the  day  before  yesterday, 
when  I  happened  to  be  with  him,  he  was  saying  how  much 
he  would  give  to  know  what  had  become  of  that  poor  little 
girl." 

"Yes,  it  was  very  nice  of  him  to  remember  her,"  said 
Electra,  musingly. 

"You  say  that  you  knew  the  poor  lad  in  New  York. 
Perhaps,  as  they  were  so  much  together,  you  may  have 
known  the  poor  little  girl  also?"  said  Victor. 

"I  cannot  tell  you  unless  you  give  me  her  name.  There 
were  so  many  poor  little  girls  in  New  York,"  answered 
Electra,  shaking  her  head. 

"She,  like  the  boy,  was  too  poor  then  to  own  a  name. 


98  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

They  called  her  'Sal's  Kid.'  I  never  knew  her  by  any 
other  name,"  answered  Victor. 

And  then  their  eyes  met,  and  both  laughed  and  impul- 
sively put  out  their  hands,  which  were  then  clasped  to- 
gL^ther. 

"I  knew  you  at  the  very  first  sight,  Vick,"  said  Electra, 
giving  full  sway  to  her  feelings  of  pleasure  in  meeting  her 
old  playmate  again. 

"And  so  did  I  you.  Heaven  bless  you,  child!  I  am  so 
happy  and  thankful  to  find  you  here,  so  healthy  and  pros- 
I)erous.  You  were  a  sickly,  poor  little  thing  when  I  knew 
you,"  said  Victor,  with  much  emotion. 

'*!  was  a  famished  poor  little  thing,  you  mean.  Food 
has  made  all  the  difference,  Victor,"  laughed  Electra. 

"My  name  is  Joseph  Brent,  my  dear,"  said  Hartman, 
who  almost  trembled  to  hear  the  old  name  spoken. 

"Ah,  but  'Sal's  Kid'  knew  you  only  as  'Galley  Vick.'  I 
thought  Vick  was  the  short  for  Victor.  But  it  seems  you 
really  liad  a  name  all  the  time  as  well  as  I  had,  though 
neither  of  us  suspected  we  possessed  such  an  appendage." 

Hartman  bowed  in  silence. 

"And  now  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  know  how  it 
happens  that  you  find  poor,  little,  ragged,  famished,  sickly 
SSal's  Kid,'  who  used  to  live  in  Rat  Alley  among  the  thieves 
and  tramps,  here — well  lodged,  well  dressed,  and  in  good 
company  ?" 

"Yes,  I  really  would." 

"Well,  it  was  'all  along  of  a  grandfather" 

"A  grandfather !" 

"  Yes,  a  grandfather.  I  really  had  a  grandfather !  And 
I  have  him  still.  And  you  have  seen  him,  and  his  name 
is  Dr.  Beresford  Jones.  And,  moreover,  I  had  a  great- 
grandfather back  of  him !  and  also  forefathers  behind  them, 
and  ancestors  extending  away  back  to  antiquity.  In  fact, 
I  think  they  ran  away  back  to  Adam." 

'^I  dare  say  they  did,"  answered  Victor  with  a  smile; 
"but  tell  me  about  that  grandfather." 

"Well,  you  must  know  that  he  was  wealthy.    He  owned 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  99 

Bcresford  Manors.  He  had  one  child,  ^sole  daughter  of  his 
house/  She  married  a  poor,  young  Italian  music-master 
aofainst  her  father's  will.  Her  father  cast  her  off.  Her  hus- 
band  took  her  to  New  York,  where  they  fell  by  degrees 
into  the  deepest  destitution.  They  both  died  of  cholera, 
leaving  me  to  the  care  of  the  miserable  beings  who  were 
their  fellow-lodgers  in  the  old  tenement  house.  I  believe 
I  was  passed  from  the  hands  of  one  beggar  to  those  of 
another,  until  my  identity  was  lost  and  my  real  name  for- 
gotten. But  I  do  not  clearly  remember  any  of  my  owners 
except  Sal.    And  I  was  called  'Sal's  Kid.'  '^ 

"It  was  then  I  knew  you,"  said  Victor. 

"So  it  was.  Well,  you  know  all  about  that  period.  It 
was  soon  after  you  went  to  sea  that  Sal's  husband,  being 
mad  with  drink  and  jealousy,  struck  his  wife  a  fatal  blow 
and  killed  her." 

"Horrible!" 

"Yes,  horrible!  I  have  heard  since  that  the  man  died 
of  man  ia-a-potu  in  the  Tombs,  before  his  trial  came  on." 

"And  you?" 

"I  was  taken  by  the  Commissioners  of  Charity  and  put 
into  the  Orphan  Asylum  at  Randall's  Island." 

"And  how  did  your  grandfather  ever  find  you  there, 
where  your  very  name  was  lost?" 

"You  may  well  ask  that.  My  name  was  lost.  I  sup- 
pose, hearing  me  called  'Sal's  Kid,'  they  mistook  that  for 
Sal  Kidd.  Anywa}^  they  registered  my  name  on  the  books 
of  the  island  as  Sarah  Kidd." 

Victor  laughed  at  this  piece  of  ingenuity  on  the  part  of 
the  authorities,  and  again  expressed  wonder  as  to  how 
her  grandfather  ever  found  her. 

"If  I  were  a  heathen,  I  should  say  he  found  me  by 
chance.  It  looked  like  it.  You  see,  he  had  met  with  mis- 
fortunes. His  wife,  my  grandmother,  died.  And  he  was 
growing  old,  and  his  home  was  lonely,  and  his  life  was 
dreary.  And  so  he  relented  toward  his  poor  daughter,  and 
even  toward  her  husband." 

"But  too  late !"  put  in  Victor. 


100  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"Yes;  too  late.  He  relented  too  late,"  sighed  Electra. 
"He  went  to  ISTew  York,  where  they  had  been  living  when 
he  had  last  heard  of  them,  and  after  making  the  most 
-diligent  inquiries,  he  only  learned  that  they  had  been  dead 
several  years,  and  had  left  an  orphan  girl  in  great  destitu- 
tion. Well,  he  advertised  for  that  child,  offering  large 
rewards  for  her  recovery." 

"But  in  vain,  I  suppose?"  said  Victor. 

"Ah,  yes,  in  vain;  for  I  was  at  RandalFs  Island  regis- 
tered under  another  name." 

"The  case  seemed  hopeless,"  said  Victor. 

"Entirely  hopeless.  And  then,  partly  from  his  disap- 
pointment, and  partly  from  seeing  so  much  of  suffering 
among  children,  he  became  a  sort  of  city  missionary.  It 
was  in  his  character  of  missionary  that  he  went  one  day  to 
an  examination  of  the  pupils  of  the  girls'  school  on  Ran- 
fl all's  Island.  There  he  saw  me,  and  recognized  me  by  my 
striking  likeness  to  my  mother.  Indeed,  he  has  since  told 
me  that  I  am  a  counterpart  of  what  my  mother  was  at  my 
age." 

"And  your  face  is  such  a  very  peculiar,  and  I  may  say 
unique  face,  that  the  likeness  could  not  have  been  acci- 
dental, I  suppose,"  observed  Victor. 

"That  is  what  he  thought.  Well,  without  saying  a  word 
to  me  then  of  his  recognition,  he  commenced  with  the  slight 
clew  tliat  he  had  in  his  hands,  and  pursued  investigations 
that  in  a  few  days  proved  me  to  be  the  child  of  Sebastian 
and  Electra  Coroni.  Then  he  came  to  the  island  and  took 
me  away,  and  put  me  to  school  at  Mount  Ascension.  There 
I  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  young  lady  friend  that  I 
am  now  staying  with.  Miss  Cavendish  is  my  cousin.  Last 
month  I  graduated  from  Mount  Ascension.  And  on  the 
first  of  next  month  I  am  going  to  Beresford  Manors,  to 
commence  my  new  life  there  as  my  grandfather's  house- 
keeper. And,  Victor — I  beg  your  pardon — Mr.  Brent,  I 
hope  that  you  will  come  and  visit  us  there,"  concluded 
Electra,  with  a  smile. 

"But  how  would  your  grandfather,  Dr.  Beresford  Jones, 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  101 

of  Beresford  Manors,  take  a  visit  from  a  poor  adventurer 
like  me?''  inquired  Victor.  '•     •  [•':''.  I,;  ;  ,.  .  .\ 

"He  will  take  it  very  kindly;  foT  he  also  will  askyda 
to  come,"  said  Electra. 

Victor  bowed,  and  walked  on  in  silence. 

Electra  spoke  again : 

"I  have  told  you  without  reserve  how  it  was  that  I  was 
so  suddenly  raised  from  extreme  poverty  to  wealth,  and 
now "    She  paused  and  looked  at  her  companion. 

"And  now  you  want  to  know  how  I  came  by  my  for- 
tune?" smilingly  inquired  Victor. 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do,"  answered  Electra. 

"The  explanation  is  short  and  simple  enough.  I  became 
suddenly  rich,  as  some  few  other  poor  vagabonds  have,  by 
a  fortunate  stroke  of  the  pick — by  a  California  gold  mine,"^ 
quietly  answered  Victor. 

"Oh!"  exclaim.ed  Electra. 

And  she  stopped  and  put  him  away  from  her  a  step,  and 
stood  and  stared  at  him. 

Victor  laughed.  And  then  they  went  on,  for  their  com- 
panions were  at  the  gates  of  the  university,  waiting  for 
them  to  come  along. 

They  entered  the  beautiful  grounds  occupied  by  the  ex- 
tensive buildings  of  the  university,  and  where  several  of 
the  professors,  as  well  as  a  few  of  the  students  who  had 
not  yet  left  for  the  vacation,  were  taking  their  morning 
walks. 

The  visitors  were  soon  met  by  Dr.  Jones  and  Alden 
Lytton,  who  came  up  together  to  welcome  them. 

After  the  usual  greetings,  Alden  introduced  his  party 
to  several  of  the  professors,  who  received  them  with  great 
courtesy,  and  attended  them  through  the  various  buildings, 
pointing  out  to  them  the  most  notable  objects  of  interest, 
and  entertaining  them  with  the  history,  statistics  and  anec- 
dotes of  the  institution. 

They  were  taken  into  the  various  libraries,  where  they 
saw  collected  vast  numbers  of  the  most  valuable  books. 


102  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

among  which  were  a  few  very  unique  black  letter  and 
}.llumi Elated  folume;!^,  of  great  antiquity. 

They  were  then  led  into  the  several  halls,  where  were 
collected  costly  astronomical  and  chemical  apparatus. 

And  finally  they  visited  the  museum,  filled  with  cabinets 
of  minerals,  shells,  woods,  fossils,  and  so  forth. 

And  after  an  interesting,  but  very  fatiguing  tour  of  in- 
spection, that  occupied  four  hours,  they  were  invited  to 
rest  in  the  house  of  one  of  the  professors,  where  they  were 
refreshed  with  a  dainty  lunch,  after  which  they  returned 
to  the  village. 

And  the  evening  was  spent  socially  in  Mrs.  Wheatfield'a 
drawing-room. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  SURPRISE 

In  the  course  of  that  evening  they  were  surprised  by  a 
visit.  It  was  from  Mr.  Craven  Kyte,  who  came  to  call  on 
Miss  Cavendish. 

He  was  invited  into  the  drawing-room,  and  introduced 
to  the  whole  party. 

Mr.  Kyte  was  in  the  deepest  state  of  despondency. 

He  told  Miss  Emma  that  a  few  days  previous  he  had 
received  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Grey,  saying  that  she  was 
about  to  leave  Charlottesville  for  a  little  while,  in  order 
to  give  up  her  rooms  to  Miss  Cavendish  and  her  party; 
and  that  she  did  not  know  exactly  where  she  should  go, 
but  that  she  would  write  and  tell  him  as  soon  as  she  should 
get  settled. 

"And  since  that.  Miss  Emma,  I  have  not  heard  one  word 
from  her,  nor  do  I  know  where  she  is,  or  how  she  is,  or  how 
to  find  out,"  concluded  Mr.  Kyte,  in  the  most  dejected 
tone. 

"How  long  has  it  been,  Mr.  Kyte?"  inquired  Miss  Cav- 
endish. 


VICTOR'S  TRiraiPH  103 

"Fire  days,"  answered  the  young  man,  as  solemnly  as 
if  he  had  said  five  years. 

"That  is  but  a  short  time.  I  do  not  think  you  have 
cause  to  be  anxious  yet  a  while,"  said  Emma,  with  a  smile. 

"But  you  haven't  heard  from  her  yourself  even,  have 
you.  Miss  Emma  ?"  he  anxiously  inquired. 

"Certainly  not,  else  I  should  have  told  you  at  once," 
replied  Miss  Cavendish. 

"For  mercy's  sake,  you  never  came  all  the  way  from 
"Wendover  to  Charlottesville  to  ask  that  question,  did  you, 
Mr.  Kyte?"  inquired  irrepressible  Electra,  elevating  her 
eyebrows. 

The  lover,  who  had  so  unconsciously  betrayed  himself, 
blushed  violently,  and  stammered  forth: 

"Xo — not  entirely.  The  fact  is,  for  more  than  a  year 
past  I  have  been  watching  and  waiting  for  an  opportunity 
to  change  my  business  from  Wendover  to  Charlottesville. 
And  I  came  up  partly  about  that  also.  But  as  a — a  friend 
of  Mrs.  Grey,  I  do  feci  anxious  about  her  mysterious  ab- 
sence and  silence." 

"I  assure  you,  Mr.  Kyte,  that  Mrs.  Grey  is  quite  capable 
of  taking  excellent  care  of  herself,"  added  plain-spoken 
Laura  Lytton. 

"Come,  Mr.  Kyte,  cheer  up!  We  are  going  on  a  pil- 
grimage to  Monticello  to-morrow,  and  you  must  join  our 
party,"  said  Miss  Cavendish  kindly. 

But  Mr.  K}i;e  excused  himself,  saying  that  he  could 
not  leave  his  business  long,  and  must  start  for  W^endover 
the  next  morning. 

And  soon  after  this  he  took  leave. 

The  next  da}'  was  devoted  by  our  party  to  a  pious  pil- 
grimage, to  the  shrine  of  classic  Monticello,  once  the  seat, 
now  the  monument  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 

The  whole  party,  young  and  old,  gentlemen  and  ladies, 
•went. 

The  bishop's  widow  forgot  her  housekeeping  cares  and 
took  a  holiday  for  that  day. 

And  even  Mrs.  Fanning,  who  did  not  care  to  see  the 


104  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

great  university,  could  not  miss  the  opportunity  of  a  pil- 
grimage to  that  Mecca. 

The  party  was  a  large  one,  consisting  of  five  ladies  and 
four  gentlemen. 

And  so  it  required  two  capacious  carriages  and  two 
saddle  horses  to  convey  them. 

They  formed  quite  a  little  procession  m  leaving  the  vil- 
lage. 

In  the  first  carriage  rode  Mrs.  Fanning,  Emma  Caven- 
dish, Electra  and  Dr.  Jones. 

In  the  second  carriage  rode  Mrs.  Wheatfield,  Laura  Lyt- 
ton  and  Mr.  Lyle. 

Alden  Lytton  and  Victor  Hartman  rode  on  horseback, 
and  brought  up  tlie  rear. 

Their  way  lay  through  the  most  sublime  and  beautiful 
mountain  and  valley  scenery. 

Monticello  is  built  upon  a  mountain,  some  three  miles 
south  of  the  village. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  private  dwelling  in  the  whole  coun- 
try occupying  a  more  elevated  site,  or  commanding  a  more 
magnificent  panorama  of  landscape,  than  Monticello. 

It  is  a  fine  country  house  of  great  architectural  beauty 
and  strength,  built  upon  a  lofty  and  slightly  inclined  plain, 
formed  by  grading  the  top  of  the  mountain. 

It  commands  a  stupendous  prospect,  bounded  only  by 
the  spherical  form  of  the  earth.  And  standing  there,  with 
the  earth  beneath  and  the  heavens  all  around,  one  fully 
realizes  that  we  live  upon  a  great  planet  rolling  in  its  orbit 
through  immense  space. 

Our  party  spent  a  long  summer's  day  up  there  in  the 
sunshine,  and  then,  after  eating  the  luncheon  they  had 
brought  with  them,  they  set  out  on  their  return  to  the 
village,  where  they  arrived  in  time  for  one  of  Mrs.  Wheat- 
field's  delicious  early  teas. 

The  remaining  days  of  the  week  were  passed  in  walk- 
ing, riding,  or  driving  to  the  most  interesting  points  of 
the  neighborhood. 

On  Saturday  morning  they  took  leave  of  the  bishop's 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  105 

widow,  and  set  out  for  Richmond,  en  route  for  Wendover 
and  Blue  Cliffs. 

They  reached  the  city  late  on  the  same  night,  and  took 
up  their  old  quarters  at  the  Henrico  House. 

They  stayed  over  the  Sabbath,  and  went  to  hear  Mr. 
Lyle  preach,  morning  and  evening,  to  his  old  congrega- 
tion. 

On  Monday  morning  the  whole  party  resumed  their 
journey,  and  arrived  at  Wendover  early  in  the  afternoon 
of  the  same  day. 

There  the  party  were  destined  to  divide. 

There  were  carriages  from  Blue  Cliffs  waiting  by  ap- 
pointment at  the  railway  station,  to  meet  Miss  Cavendish 
and  her  friends. 

And  there  was  the  hack  from  the  Reindeer  Hotel,  for 
the  accommodation  of  any  other  travelers  who  might  re- 
quire it. 

Mrs.  Fanning,  Emma  Cavendish,  Laura  Lytton  and 
Electra,  attended  by  Dr.  Jones  and  Alden  Lytton,  entered 
their  carriages  to  go  to  Blue  Cliff  Hall. 

Mr.  Lyle  and  Victor  Hartman  took  leave  of  them  at  their 
carriage  doors,  saw  the  horses  start,  and  then  set  out  to 
walk  together  to  the  bachelor  home  of  Mr.  Lyle,  where 
Hartman  was  to  be  a  guest. 


CHAPTER  XXI  ' 

AT  THE  PARSONAGE 

^Ir.  Lyle  lived  in  a  pretty,  white  cottage,  covered  nearly 
to  the  roof  with  fragrant  creeping  vines,  and  standing  in 
the  midst  of  a  beautiful  flower  garden. 

Here  he  lived  liis  bachelor  life  quite  alone,  but  for  the 
occasional  siglit  of  the  old  negro  couple  that  were  wait- 
ing on  him — Aunt  Xancy,  who  did  all  his  housework,  and 
Uncle  Ned,  who  worked  in  the  garden. 


106  VICTOR'S  TRIUIVIPH 

He  found  the  faithful  old  couple  prepared  to  receive 
him  and  his  guest. 

A  tempting  repast,  combining  the  attractions  of  dinner 
and  tea,  was  ready  to  be  placed  upon  the  table  just  as  soon 
as  the  gentlemen  should  have  made  their  toilets  after  their 
long  journey. 

Mr.  Lyle  led  his  guest  into  a  fresh,  pretty  room,  with 
white  muslin  curtains  at  the  vine-clad  windows,  and  a 
white  dimity  spread  on  the  bed,  and  white  flower  enam- 
eled cottage  furniture  completing  the  appointments. 

"This  is  a  room  for  a  pretty  girl,  rather  than  for  a  grim 
miner,'^  said  Victor  Hartman,  looking  admiringly  around 
the  little  apartment. 

"I  call  it  the  'Chamber  of  Peace,'  and  that  is  why  I  put 
you  in  it,"  said  Mr.  Lyle. 

After  they  had  washed  and  dressed  they  went  down  to- 
gether to  the  cozy  little  dining-room,  where  they  did  such 
justice  to  the  tea-dinner  as  made  Aunt  Nancy^s  heart  crow 
for  joy. 

And  when  that  was  over  they  went  into  the  snug  little 
parlor  and  sat  down  to  talk  over  their  plans. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Lyle  informed  Victor  Hartman 
that  he  was  doing  all  the  work  of  the  parish  during  Dr. 
Goodwin's  hopeless  indisposition,  and  that  he  had  been 
doing  it  for  the  last  twelve  months. 

"You  will  succeed  him  here  as  rector,  I  presume,"  said 
Victor. 

"I  presume  so;  but  I  do  not  like  to  speak  of  that," 
gravely  replied  Mr.  Lyle. 

"No,  of  course  you  do  not.  And  I  really  beg  your  par- 
don. I  should  not  have  spo^^en  myself,  only  in  my  girl's 
interests.  You  see,  I  felt  a  little  curious  and  anxious  to 
know  where  her  future  life  would  be  likely  to  be  passed, 
and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  much  happier  life  if  passed 
here,  near  her  dear  friend  Miss  Cavendish,  that's  all,"  ex- 
plained Victor. 

"You  seem  to  consider  that  quite  a  settled  matter,"  re- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  107 

plied  Mr.  Lyle,  a  little  incoherently,  and  blushing  like  a 
maiden. 

"Yes,  of  course,  I  consider  it  all  quite  settled.  You,  in 
your  earnestness,  cannot  conceal  your  liking  for  my  girl, 
and  she,  in  her  innocent  frankness,  does  not  even  try  to 
conceal  hers  for  you.  And  I  heartily  approve  the  match, 
and  am  ready  to  dower  the  bride,"  said  Victor. 

''But  I  have  not  ventured  to  speak  to  her  yet,"  stam- 
mered  Mr.  Lyle. 

''Then  you  may  do  so  just  as  soon  as  you  please,"  an- 
swered Victor. 

"And  now  about  Alden,"  said  Mr.  Lyle,  by  way  of  chang- 
ing the  conversation. 

"Yes,  now  about  Alden.  He  does  not  suspect  that  I  am 
his  banker,  I  hope?" 

"No,  indeed.  I  paid  him  over  the  munificent  sum  you 
intrusted  to  me  for  him.  He  feels — well,  I  may  say  pain- 
fully grateful,  and  is  confident  that  he  must  sometime  re- 
pay you,  with  interest  and  compound  interest." 

"  Yes,  my  boy  will  certainly  repay  me,  but  not  in  the 
way  he  thinks,"  observed  Victor  gravely. 

"After  a  week's  visiting  with  his  sister  at  Blue  Clifis, 
he  will  go  up  to  Richmond  and  select  a  site  for  his  office, 
and  purchase  his  law  library,  though  I  think  he  will  have 
to  go  to  Philadelphia  to  do  that." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  he  will,"  admitted  Hartman. 

"What  are  your  own  plans  about  yourself,  Victor,  if  I 
may  be  allowed  to  ask?"  inquired  the  minister. 

"Vv^ell,  I  haven't  any.  I  came  on  here  to  see  my  boy 
and  girl,  and  settle  them  in  life  as  well  as  I  can.  I  shall 
stay  till  I  do  that,  any  way.  After  that,  I  don't  know  what 
I  shall  do.  I  do  not  care  about  going  back  to  California. 
My  business  is  there  in  the  hands  of  a  capable  and  trust- 
worthy agent.  And  somehow  I  like  the  old  mother  State; 
and  now  that  you  lead  me  to  think  about  it,  perhaps  I 
shall  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  here;  but,  as  I  said  before, 
I  don't  know." 

"By  the  way,  dear  Victor,  you  spoke  to  me  with  much 


108  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

simple  frankness  of  my  most  private  personal  affairs.  May 
I  take  the  same  liberty  with  yours?"  inquired  Mr.  Lyle 
very  seriously. 

"Why,  of  course  you  may,  if  you  call  it  a  liberty,  which 
I  don't,  you  know,"  answered  Victor  with  a  smile. 

"Then,  my  dear  Hartman,  how  about  Miss  Electra?  1 
was  not  so  absorbed  in  my  own  interests  as  not  to  have  an 
eye  to  yours." 

"Ah,  Miss  Electra!  Well,  parson,  she  was  my  little  old 
acquaintance  of  Eat  Alley,  when  I  flourished  in  that  frag- 
rant neighborhood  as  'Galley  Vick.'  " 

"Xo!"  exclaimed  ^Ir.  Lyle,  opening  his  eyes  wide  with 
astonishment. 

"Yes,"  quietly  answered  Victor  Plartman.  "And  it  is  a 
wonder  that  you,  who  know  the  family  so  well,  do  not 
know  this  episode  in  its  history." 

"How  was  I  to  know,  my  friend,  when  no  one  ever  told 
me?  I  suppose  that  few  or  none  but  the  family  know 
anything  about  it." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right,"  said  Victor.  "Well,  you  see, 
she  recogized  me,  as  surely  as  I  did  her,  at  first  sight.  We 
had  an  explanation  as  we  walked  out  to  the  university  that 
day." 

"But  how  came  the  grandaughter  of  Dr.  Beresford  Jones 
ever  to  have  had  sucli  a  miserable  childhood  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,  there  was  a  disobedient  daughter,  a  run- 
away marriage,  a  profligate  husband,  and  the  consequences 
— poverty,  destitution,  early  death,  and  an  orphan  child 
left  among  beggars  and  thieves !  Her  grandfather  found 
her  at  last,  and  took  her  under  his  guardianship.  That 
is  the  whole  story  in  brief." 

"Well,  well,  well,"  mused  Mr.  Lyle,  with  his  head  on 
his  breast;  then  raising  it,  he  went  back  to  the  previous 
question : 

''But  what  about  Miss  Electra?" 

"I  have  just  told  ycu  about  her,"  replied  Victor. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  know.    You  have  told  me  something  about 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  109 

her,  but  you  haven't  told  me  all.  Take  me  into  your  con- 
fidence, Victor.'^ 

"What  do  you  mean?"  inquired  Hartman,  in  some  em- 
barrassment. 

"Why,  that  you  and  your  little  old  acquaintance  seem 
to  be  very  fond  of  each  other." 

Victor  laughed  in  an  embarrassed  manner,  and  then 
said: 

"Do  you  know  that  when  we  were  in  Rat  Alley,  and 
she  was  a  tiny  child  and  I  was  a  lad,  there  was  a  promise 
of  marriage  between  us?" 

"That  was  funny,  too.    Well,  what  about  it?" 

"Nothing.  Only,  if  I  dared,  I  would  some  day  remind 
her  of  it," 

"Do,  Victor.  Believe  me,  she  will  not  aifect  to  have 
forgotten  it,"  said  Mr.  Lyle  earnestly. 

"Ah!  but  when  I  think  of  all  I  have  passed  through  I 
dare  not  ask  a  beautiful  and  happy  girl  to  unite  her  bright 
life  with  my  blackened  one.  I  dare  not,"  said  Hartman, 
very  sadly. 

"Nonsense,  Victor.  You  are  morbid  on  that  subject. 
Yours  is  a  nobly  redeemed  life,"  said  Mr.  Lyle  solemnly. 

"But — my  past?"  sighed  Victor. 

"She  had  a  dark  past,  too,  poor  child.  But  no  more  of 
that.    In  both  your  cases, 

"  'Let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead ! 
Live — live  in  the  living  present. 
Heart  within  and  God  o'erhead!' 

And  now  it  is  time  to  retire,  dear  Victor.  We  keep  early 
hours  here,"  said  Mr.  Lyle,  as  he  reached  down  the  Bible 
from  its  shelf,  preparatory  to  commencing  evening  ser- 
vice. 

Then  they  read  the  Word  together,  and  offered  up  their 
prayers  and  thanksgivings  together,  and  retired,  strength- 
ened. 

This  week,  to  which  Alden  Lytton's  holiday  visit  to 


110  VICTOR'S  TMUMPH 

Blue  Cliffs  was  limited,  was  passed  by  the  young  people  m 
a  succession  of  innocent  entertainments. 

First  there  was  a  garden  party  and  dance  at  Blue  Cliff 
Hall,  at  which  all  the  young  friends  and  acquaintances  of 
Miss  Cavendish  assisted,  which  the  Rev.  Dr.  Jones  and 
the  Hev.  Mr.  Lyle  indorsed  by  their  presence,  and  in  which 
even  Victor  Hartman  forgot,  for  the  time  being,  his  own 
dark  antecedents. 

Next  Mr.  Lyle  himself  opened  his  bachelor  heart  and 
bachelor  home  to  the  young  folks,  by  giving  them  a  tea 
party,  which  delighted  the  hearts  of  Aunt  Nancy  and  Uncle 
Ned,  who  both  declared  that  this  looked  something  like 
life. 

But  the  third  and  greatest  event  of  the  week  took  place 
on  Friday  evening,  when  Dr.  Beresford  Jones  gave  a  great 
house-warming  party,  on  the  occasion  of  his  carrying  home 
his  grandaughter  and  sole  heiress,  Electra  Coroni. 

Not  only  all  our  own  young  friends,  including  the  rev- 
erend clergy  and  the  California  miner,  but  all  the  neigh- 
borhood and  all  the  county  were  there. 

And  they  kept  up  the  festivities  all  day,  and  well  into 
the  night. 

Emma  Cavendish  and  Laura  Lytton  remained  with  Elec- 
tra for  a  few  days  only,  for  Alden  Lytton  was  to  leave 
the  neighborhood  for  Richmond,  on  the  Monday  morning 
following  the  party  at  Beresford  Manors. 

And  during  all  this  time  no  word  was  heard  of  Mary 
Grey. 

That  baleful  woman  had  heard  all  that  had  passed  at 
Charlottesville  and  at  Wendover,  and  her  vain  and  jealous 
spirit  was  filled  with  such  mortification  and  rage  that  she 
was  now  hiding  herself  and  deeply  plotting  the  ruin  of 
those  who  had  been  her  best  friends  and  benefactors. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  111 

CHAPTER  XXII 

MORE  MANEUVERS  OF  MRS.  GREY 

When  Mary  Grey  reached  Richmond  she  went  first  to 
a  quiet  family  hotel,  where  she  engaged  a  room  for  a  few 
days. 

Then  she  took  a  carriage,  and  drove  to  the  rectory  of 
old  St.  John's  Church,  and  presented  her  letter  to  the 
rector. 

The  reverend  gentleman  received  her  very  kindly  and 
cordially,  and  glanced  over  her  letter,  saying,  as  he  re- 
turned it  to  her : 

"But  this  was  not  at  all  necessary,  my  dear  madam.  I 
remember  you  perfecth%  as  a  regular  attendant  and  com- 
municant of  this  church,  while  you  were  on  a  visit  to  the 
family  of  the  late  lamented  governor  of  this  State." 

"Yes,  sir;  but  then  I  was  only  a  visitor  at  the  church, 
just  as  I  was  a  guest  at  the  government  house.  Now  I 
wisli  to  be  a  member  of  the  church,  as  I  intend  to  become 
a  permanent  resident  of  the  city,"  Mary  Grey  explained, 
with  her  charming  smile. 

The  pastor  expressed  himself  highly  gratified,  and  added : 

"Your  large  circle  of  friends,  that  you  won  during  yoar 
long  visit  here  two  or  three  years  ago,  will  be  delighted 
to  hear  of  this." 

Mary  Grey  bowed  gracefully,  and  said : 

"The  pleasure,  she  believed,  would,  like  the  advantage, 
be  mostly  on  her  own  side." 

Then  she  inquired  of  the  rector,  with  an  apology  for 
troubling  him  with  her  own  humble  affairs — ^whether  he 
could  recommend  her  to  any  private  boarding-house  among 
the  members  of  his  own  church,  where  the  family  were 
really  earnest  Christians. 

The  rector  could  not  think  of  any  suitable  place  just 
then,  but  he  begged  to  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing 


112  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Mrs.  Grey  to  his  wife,  who,  he  said,  would  most  likely  be 
able  to  advise  her. 

And  he  rang  the  bell ;  and  sent  a  message  to  Mrs.  , 

who  presently  entered  the  study. 

The  introduction  took  place,  and  the  rector's  wife  re- 
ceived the  visitor  as  cordially  as  the  rector  had. 

She  knew  of  no  boarding-house  of  the  description  re- 
quired by  Mrs.  Grey,  but  she  promised  to  inquire  among 
her  friends,  and  let  that  lady  know  the  result. 

Soon  after  this  Mrs.  Grey  took  leave. 

Many  of  her  former  friends  were,  at  this  season  of  the 
year,  out  of  town,  as  she  felt  sure;  but  some  among  them 
would  probably  be  at  home. 

So  before  she  returned  to  her  hotel,  she  made  a  round 
of  calls,  and  left  her  cards  at  about  a  dozen  different  houses. 

She  then  went  back  to  her  room  at  the  hotel  and  spent 
the  remainder  of  the  day  in  unpacking  and  reviewing  her 
elegant  wardrobe. 

There  was  no  sort  of  necessity  for  doing  this,  especially 
as  she  intended  to  remain  but  a  few  days  at  the  house ;  and 
the  operation  would  only  give  her  the  trouble  of  repacking 
again,  to  move. 

But  Mary  Grey  never  read,  or  wrote,  or  sewed,  or  em- 
broidered if  she  could  avoid  it,  and  had  nothing  on  earth 
else  to  occupy  or  amuse  her;  so  her  passion  for  dress  had 
to  be  gratified  with  the  sight  of  jewels,  shawls  and  man- 
tles, laces,  silks  and  satins,  even  though  she  dare  not  wear 
them. 

Next  day  the  rector's  wife  called  on  her,  and  recom- 
mended a  very  superior  boarding-house  to  her  considera- 
tion. 

It  was  a  private  boarding-house,  in  a  fashionable  part 
of  the  town,  kept  by  two  maiden  ladies  of  the  most  aris- 
tocratic family  connections,  and  of  the  highest  church 
principles. 

This  was  exactly  the  home  for  Mrs.  Grey. 

And  the  rector's  wife  kindly  offered  to  take  her  thea 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  113 

and  there  in  the  rectory  carriage,  to  visit  "the  Misses 
Cranes,"  the  maiden  ladies  in  question. 

"The  Miss  Cranes,"  as  they  were  called,  dwelt  in  a  hand- 
somely furnished,  old-fashioned  double  house,  standing  in 
its  own  grounds,  not  very  far  from  the  government  house. 

They  were  two  very  tall,  very  thin  and  very  fair  ladies, 
with  pale  blue  eyes  and  long,  yellow,  corkscrew  curls  each 
side  of  their  wasted  cheeks. 

Introduced  as  Mary  Grey  by  the  rector's  wife,  she  was 
received  by  the  Miss  Cranes  as  a  permanent  boarder. 

On  the  Saturday  of  that  week  she  had  a  surprise. 

The  rector  of  St.  John's  paid  her  a  morning  visit,  bring- 
ing a  letter  with  the  Charlottesville  postmark. 

"It  came  this  morning,  my  dear  madam.  It  was  in- 
closed in  a  letter  to  me  from  Mrs.  Wheatfield,  the  es- 
esteemed  widow  of  my  late  lamented  friend.  Bishop  Wheat- 
field,"  said  the  rector,  as  he  placed  the  letter  in  her  hand. 

She  thanked  the  reverend  gentleman,  and  held  the  let- 
ter unopened,  wondering  how  Mrs.  Wheatfield  could  have 
found  out  that  she  was  in  Richmond. 

When  the  rector  had  taken  his  leave,  she  opened  her 
letter  and  read : 

"Charlottesville,  July  15,  18 — . 

"Mr  Dearest  Mary:  We  have  not  heard  a  word  from 
you  since  you  left  us. 

"All  your  friends  here  suffer  the  deepest  anxiety  on  your 
account,  fearing  that  you  may  be  ill  among  strangers. 

"Only  on  Sunday  last,  when  I  happened  to  speak  to  our 
minister,  after  murning  service,  I  got  a  slight  clew  to  you; 
for  he  told  me  that  you  had  asked  him  for  a  church  letter 
to  the  rector  of  St.  John's  parish  in  Richmond. 

"That  information  gives  me  the  opportunity  of  writing 
to  you,  with  some  prospect  of  having  my  letter  reach  you, 
for  I  can  enclose  it  to  the  rector  of  St.  John's,  who  will 
probably  by  this  time  know  your  address. 

"And  now,  having  explained  how  it  is  that  I  am  enabled 
to  write  to  you,  I  must  tell  you  the  news. 


114  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"There  are  three  marriages  in  prospect,  my  dear.  I  see 
it  quite  plainly.  Our  young  people  are  the  frankest  and 
most  innocent  of  human  beings.    They  have  no  disguises. 

"Who  are  to  be  married?  you  ask  me. 

"T  will  tell  you  who,  I  think,  will  be  married. 

"First,  Mr.  Alden  L}i:ton  and  Miss  Emma  Cavendish. 

"  Not  a  prudent  marriage  for  her,  because  she  is  a  minor, 
with  an  immense  fortune.  And  he  is  a  young  lawyer,  with 
not  a  dollar  of  his  own,  and  his  way  yet  to  make  in  the 
world, 

"But  what  can  we  do  about  it? 

"With  one  guardian  in  her  dotage,  and  the  other  at  the 
antipodes.  Miss  Cavendish  is  practically,  if  not  legally,  her 
own  mistress. 

"The  only  comfort  is,  that  the  young  man  in  question  is 
rich  in  everything  else,  if  not  in  money. 

"Well,  the  second  prospective  marriage  pleases  me  better. 
The  Eev.  Mr.  Lyle,  a  worthy  young  clergyman,  is  devoted 
to  Miss  Laura  Lytton. 

"The  third  approaching  nuptials  interest  me  least  of  all, 
in  any  manner.  A  dark,  brigandish  looking  Californian, 
of  almost  fabulous  wealth,  who  is  the  friend  and  guest  of 
Mr.  Lyle,  has  evidently  fallen  in  love  at  first  sight  with 
pretty  little  sparkling  Electra  Coroni. 

"They  have  all  gone  down  to  Wendover  together,  and 
the  Lyttons  are  to  make  a  long  visit  at  Blue  Cliffs. 

"I  must  not  forget  to  tell  you  that  worthy  young  man, 
Mr.  Kyte,  has  been  here  inquiring  after  you  with  much 
anxiety.  He  went  back  to  Wendover  a  day  or  two  before 
our  young  people  left. 

"Now,  my  dearest  Mary,  let  me  hear  that  you  are  well 
and  believe  me  ever  your  devoted  friend, 

"Maria  Wheatfield." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  115 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

A  DIABOLICAL  PLOT 

T^To  LANGUAGE  can  adequately  describe  the  mortification 
and  rage  that  filled  the  bosom  of  Mary  Grey  as  she  read 
the  foregoing  letter. 

Two  of  her  once  ardent  worshipers — handsome  Alden 
Lytton  and  eloquent  Stephen  Lyle — had  forsaken  her 
shrine,  and  were  offering  up  their  devotions  to  other 
divinities. 

"I  have  one  devoted  slave — one  willing  instrument  left 
yet/^  she  muttered  to  herself;  "he  would  pay  any  price 
— yes,  the  price  of  his  soul,  for  my  love !  He  shall  pay  my 
price  down !  He  shall  be  the  means  of  drawing  destruc- 
tion upon  all  their  heads !  Yes,  Miss  Cavendish,  marry 
Alden  Lytton,  if  you  will,  and  afterward  look  honest  men 
and  women  in  the  face  if  you  can!  Yes,  Stephen  Lyle, 
become  the  husband  of  Laura  Lytton,  and  then  hold  up 
your  head  in  the  pulpit,  if  you  dare !  Ah,  if  my  plot  sue- 
ceed!  Ah,  if  my  plot  succeed,  how  terribly  will  I  be 
avenged!  And  it  shall  succeed!"  she  hissed  through  her 
grinding  teeth,  with  a  grim  hatred  distorting  her  white 
features  and  transforming  her  beautiful  face  for  an  in- 
stant with  demoniac  hideousness. 

She  started  up  and  commenced  traversing  the  floor,  a& 
a  furious  tigress  in  her  den. 

When  she  had  raged  herself  into  something  like  com- 
posure, she  opened  her  writing  case  and  wrote  the  follow- 
ing letter : 

"Richmond,  Va.,  Aug.  — ,  18 — . 

"To  Craven  Kyte,  Esq. — Dead  Friend:  My  wander- 
ings have  come  to  a  temporary  end  here  in  this  city,  where 
I  expect  to  remain  for  some  weeks,  even  if  I  do  not  con- 
clude to  make  it  my  permanent  residence. 

"  Shall  I  trouble  you  to  do  me  a  favor  ?    Some  time  ago 


116  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

I  left  in  the  hands  of  the  jeweler  at  Wendover  a  little 
pearl  brooch,  which  I  forgot  to  call  for  when  I  left,  and 
have  neglected  to  send  for  ever  since. 

^'The  brooch  in  itself  is  of  small  intrinsic  value;  but  as 
it  is  an  old  family  relic,  I  should  like  to  recover  it.  Will 
you  therefore  please  go  to  the  jeweler's  and  get  it,  and  send 
it  to  me  in  a  registered  letter  by  mail?  and  I  shall  be  very 
much  indebted  to  you.  And  if  j^ou  should  happen  to  come 
to  tliis  city  during  my  stay  here,  I  hope  you  will  call  to 
see  me;  for  I  should  be  very  glad  to  see  any  old  friend 
from  Wendover.    Yours  truly,  M.  Grey." 

On  Sunday  morning,  to  keep  herself  actively  employed, 
as  well  as  to  win  "golden  opinions,"  Mrs.  Grey  dressed 
herself  plainly,  but  very  becomingly,  and  went  early  to 
the  Sunday-school  at  old  St.  John's,  to  offer  herself  as  a 
teacher. 

She  was  soon  appointed  to  the  temporary  charge  of  a 
class  of  little  girls,  whose  regular  teacher  was  then  absent 
on  a  summer  tour  of  the  watering  places. 

Afterward  she  attended  both  morning  and  afternoon  ser- 
vices, and  went  to  the  missionary  meeting  in  the  evening. 

Still,  after  all  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  she  was  unable 
to  sleep  at  night,  and  again  she  had  recourse  to  the  deadly 
drug. 

On  IMonday  morning  she  paid  her  week's  bill  at  the  hotel, 
and  removed  to  the  Miss  Cranes'. 

She  was  received  with  lofty  politeness  by  the  two  maiden 
ladies;  and  she  was  put  in  immediate  possession  of  her 
apartment — a  spacious  chamber,  with  a  balcony  overhang- 
ing the  front  flower  garden. 

She  had  scarcely  finished  unpacking  her  effects,  and 
transferring  them  from  her  trunks  to  the  bureaus  and 
wardrobes  of  the  chamber,  before  a  card  was  brought  to 
her  by  the  neat  parlor  maid  of  the  establishment. 

The  card  bore  the  name  of  Mr.  Craven  Kyte. 

"Where  is  the  gentleman?"  inquired  Mrs.  Grey. 

"In  the  drawing-room,  madam,"  answered  the  maid. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  117 

"Ask  him  to  be  so  kind  as  to  wait.  I  will  be  down 
directl}^"  said  Mrs.  Grey. 

The  girl  left  the  room  to  take  her  message,  and  Mrs. 
Grey  began  to  change  her  dress,  smiling  strangely  to  her- 
self as  she  did  so. 

She  gave  a  last  finisliing  touch  to  the  curls  of  her  glossy 
black  hair,  and  a  last  lingering  look  at  the  mirror,  and 
then  she  went  downstairs. 

There,  alone  in  the  drawing-room,  stood  the  one  devoted 
lover  and  slave  that  she  had  left  in  the  whole  world. 

He  came  down  the  room  to  meet  her. 

"You  here!  Oh,  I'm  so  delighted  to  see  you!"  she  said, 
in  a  low  tone,  full  of  feeling,  as  she  went  toward  him, 
holding  out  both  hands. 

He  trembled  from  head  to  foot,  and  turned  pale  and  red 
by  turns,  as  he  took  them. 

"I  am  very  happy —  You  are  so  good  to  say  so.  I  was 
almost  afraid — I  thought  you  might  consider  it  a  liberty 
— my  coming,"  faltered  the  poor  fellow,  in  sore  confusion. 

"A  liberty?  How  could  you  possibly  imagine  I  would 
consider  your  coming  here  a  liberty  on  your  part?  Why, 
dearest  friend,  I  consider  it  a  favor  from  you,  a  pleasure 
for  me.  Wh}^  should  you  think  otherwise  ?"  inquired  Mary 
Grey,  with  her  most  alluring  smile. 

"Oh,  thanks,  thanks;  but  it  was  your  letter." 

"My  letter?  Sit  down,  Craven,  dear,  and  compose  your- 
self. Here,  sit  here,"  she  said,  seating  herself  on  the  sofa 
and  signing  for  him  to  take  the  place  by  her  side. 

He  dropped,  trembling,  flushing  and  paling,  into  the 
indicated  seat. 

"^ow  tell  me  what  there  was  in  my  harmless  letter  to 
disturb  you,"  she  murmured,  passing  her  soft  fingers  over 
his  forehead,  and  running  them  through  the  dark  curls  of 
his  hair. 

"iSTothing  that  was  meant  to  disturb  me,  I  know.  It 
was  all  kindness.  You  could  not  write  to  me,  or  to  any 
one,  otherwise  than  kindly,"  faltered  the  lover. 


118  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"Well,  then?"  inquired  Mary  Grey,  in  a  pretty,  reproach- 
ful tone. 

"But  I  felt  it  was  cold,  cold,"  sighed  the  young  man. 

"Why,  you  dearest  of  dears,  one  must  be  discreet  in 
writing  letters.  Suppose  my  letter  had  expressed  all  my 
feelings  toward  you,  and  then  had  fallen  into  the  hand? 
of  any  one  else?  Such  mistakes  are  made  in  the  mails 
sometimes.  How  would  you  have  liked  it?"  she  inquired, 
patting  his  cheeks. 

"I  should  have  been  wild.  But  it  would  only  have  been 
at  the  loss  of  your  letter.  As  for  me.  Heaven  knows,  I 
should  not  mind  if  all  the  world  knew  how  much  I  adore 
you.  On  the  contrary,  I  should  glory  in  it,"  added  the 
lover. 

"But  a  lady  feels  differently.  She  only  lets  her  lover 
know  how  well  she  loves  him;  and  not  always  does  she 
•even  let  him  know,"  softly  murmured  the  beautiful  tempt- 
ress, as  she  lightly  caressed  his  raven  curls. 

"And  now  tell  me  the  news,  dear  Craven !  How  are  all 
■our  friends  at  Blue  Cliffs?"  she  archly  inquired. 

"I  only  want  to  tell  you  how  much  I  adore  you,"  whis- 
pered the  lover,  who  was  beginning  to  recover  his  com- 
posure. 

"That  would  be  a  vain  repetition,  darling,  especially  as 
I  know  it  all  quite  well,"  murmured  Mary  Grey,  with  a 
smile,  and  still  passing  her  hand  with  mesmeric  gentleness 
over  his  hair. 

"Ay;  but  when  will  you  make  me  completely  happy  " 
sighed  the  poor  fellow. 

"Whew!"  smiled  Mary  Grey,  with  a  little  birdlike  whis- 
tle; "how  fast  we  are  getting  on,  to  be  sure!  Why,  a  few 
minutes  ago  we  were  afraid  that  we  were  taking  a  liberty 
in  coming  here  to  call  on  our  lady-love  at  all.  And  now 
we  are  pressing  her  to  name  the  day.  See  here,  you  im- 
patient boy ;  answer  me  this :  When  did  I  ever  promise  to 
'make  you  happy'  at  all?"  she  inquired,  in  a  bantering 
tone. 

"But  you  gave  me  hopes — oh,  do  not  say  that  you  never 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  119 

gave  me  hopes!"  he  pleaded,  turning  red  and  pale,  and 
trembling  from  head  to  foot  as  before. 

"Well,  I  don't  say  it;  for  I  know  I  promised  if  ever  T 
should  marry  living  man,  I  should  marry  you.  I  repeat 
that  promise  now,  dear  Craven!"  she  added  gravely  and 
tenderly. 

"Ah,  Heaven  bless  you  for  those  blessed  words!  But 
when — when  will  you  make  me  happy?  Oh,  if  I  possess 
your  love,  when — when  shall  I  possess  your  hand?"  he 
pleaded.  And  then,  as  if  suddenly  ashamed  of  his  own 
vehemence,  he  stopped  in  confusion. 

"You  have  won  my  love,  you  petulant  boy!"  she  an- 
swered archly.  Then  dropping  her  voice  to  its  tenderest 
music,  she  murmured,  "What  would  you  do  to  win  my 
hand?" 

"Anything — anything  under  the  sun!"  he  answered 
wildly,  and  forgetting  all  his  embarrassment.  "Whatever 
man  has  done  to  win  woman,  would  I  do  to  win  you! — 
more  than  ever  man  did  to  win  woman,  would  I  do  to  win 
you!  I  would  renounce  my  friends,  betray  my  country, 
abjure  my  faith,  lose  my  soul  for  you !" 

"Words,  words,  words!  You  talk  recklessly.  You  know 
you  would  not  do  the  least  one  of  these  dreadful  deeds  for 
me,"  answered  Mary  Grey,  laying  her  hand  on  his  lips. 

"Try  me!" 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  PRICE  OF  A  SOUL 

He  spoke  these  two  words  with  such  a  desperate  look,, 
in  such  a  desperate  tone,  that  Mary  Grey  was  half  fright- 
ened ;  for  she  saw  that  he  was  in  that  fatal  mood  in  which 
men  have  been  driven  to  crime  or  death  for  the  love  of 
woman. 

This  was  the  mood  to  which  she  wished  to  bring  him,. 


120  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

and  in  which  she  wished  to  keep  him  until  he  should  have 
done  her  work,  and  yet  it  half  frightened  her  now. 

"Hush,  hush!"  she  murmured.  "Be  quiet.  There  are 
people  in  the  next  room.  They  may  hear  you.  And  I  am 
sure  if  they  should  do  so,  they  would  take  you  for  a  luna- 
tic." 

"But — do  you  believe  me?  Do  you  believe  that  I  would 
defy  the  universe  in  your  service?  Do  you  believe  me? 
If  not,  try  me!"  he  aspirated,  vehemently. 

"I  do  believe  you.  And  some  day  I  will  try  you.  You 
have  won  my  love;  but  he  who  wins  my  hand  must  first 
prove  his  love  for  me  in  a  way  that  will  leave  no  doubt 
upon  the  fact." 

"Then  I  am  safe,  for  I  am  sure  to  prove  it,"  he  said, 
with  a  sigh  of  intense  relief. 

She  looked  at  him  again,  and  knew  that  he  spoke  as  he 
felt.  Yes,  for  her  sake  he  would  "march  to  death  as  to  a 
festival." 

"jSTow  then,  will  you  be  good  and  quiet,  and  tell  me 
news  of  my  old  neighbors  at  Wendover  and  Blue  Cliffs?" 
she  archly  inquired. 

"I  do  not  think  I  can.  I  wish  to  sit  here  and  look  at 
you  and  think  only  of  you.  It  would  be  a  painful  wrencli 
to  tear  away  my  thoughts  from  you,  and  employ  them 
upon  anything  else.  Let  me  sit  here  in  my  heaven!"  he 
pleaded. 

"Yes,  love;  but  remember,  I  am  very  anxious  to  know 
something  about  my  dear  friends,  whom  I  have  not  heard 
from  for  a  month.  Cannot  you  gratify  me?"  coaxed  Mary 
Grey. 

"I  cannot  fix  my  mind  upon  them  long  enough  to  re- 
member anything.  You  absorb  it  all,"  he  answered,  dream- 
ily gazing  upon  her. 

"But  if  I  ask  you  questions,  surely  you  can  answer 
them,"  said  Mary  Grey,  who,  though  very  anxious  for  in- 
formation later  than  that  afforded  by  Mrs.  Wheatfield's 
letter,  was  n»ot  ill-pleased  at  the  devotion  which  baffled 
her  curiosity. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  121 

"Yes,  I  will  answer  any  question  you  ask.  That  will 
net  be  so  much  of  a  wrench,"  he  said. 

"Then  how  is  my  dear  friend,  Emma  Cavendish?"  in- 
quired the  traitress. 

"Well  and  happy,  at  Blue  Cliffs,"  answered  the  lover. 

"Is  it  true,  as  I  hear,  that  she  is  to  marry "    Mary 

Grey  hesitated  for  a  moment  before  her  choking  voice  could 
pronounce  his  name — "Mr.  Alden  Lytton?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  so.    Everybody  says  so." 

"^Yhen?" 

"As  soon  as  he  gets  established  in  his  profession,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"Tell  me  about  him." 

"Well,  he  is  coming  here  on  the  first  of  the  month,  to 
find  an  office  and  fit  it  up.  And  then  he  is  going  on  to 
Philadelphia  to  select  books  for  a  law  library." 

"Ah,  he  is  coming  here,  and  he  is  going  on  to  Philadel- 
phia. Yes,  yes,  yes,  yes.  That  will  do,"  murmured  Mary 
Grey  to  herself. 

"What  did  you  say?"  inquired  Craven  Kyte. 

"  I  said  that  it  was  a  good  plan ;  but  it  will  take  money," 
answered  Mrs.  Grey. 

"Yes,  that  it  will.  And  he  has  got  it.  That  mysterious 
guardian  of  his  has  sent  him  ten  thousand  dollars  to  begin 
with." 

"  A  round  sum !  When  did  you  say  he  was  coming 
here?" 

"On  the  first  of  next  month,  or  perhaps  before  the  end 
of  this  month." 

"Good!    Very  good!" 

"Good  for  what?"  innocently  inquired  Craven  Kyte. 

"Good  for  his  professional  prospects,  of  course.  The 
sooner  he  begins  the  better,  isn't  it?" 

"Oh,  yes,  certainly." 

"And  when  does  he  go  to  Philadelphia?" 

"Just  as  soon  as  he  has  selected  his  law  office,  and  set 
painters  and  glaziers  and  paper-hangers  and  upholsterers, 
and  such,  to  fit  it  up.    For  ho  expense  is  to  be  spared,  and 


122  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

the  young  lawyer  is  to  set  up  in  style.  For  such  is  the 
wish  of  his  guardian." 

"You  know  this?" 

"Yes,  I  know  it.  One  knows  everything  that  anybody 
else  knows  in  a  small  village  like  Wendover." 

"You  do  not  know  when  Mr.  Lytton  and  Miss  Caven- 
dish are  to  be  married  ?" 

^No,  because  I  do  not  think  they  know  themselves.  But 
the  people  say  it  will  be  as  soon  as  the  young  gentleman 
gets  settled  in  his  practice." 

"Is  it  also  true  that  Mr.  Lyle  and  Miss  Lytton  are  to  be 
married  ?" 

"Oh,  yes.  That  is  certain.  Their  engagement  is  an- 
nounced.   There  is  no  secret  about  that." 

"When  are  they  to  be  married?" 

"Well,  there  is  a  slight  obstacle  to  their  immediate 
union." 

"What  is  that?" 

"An  old  schoolgirl  compact  between  Miss  Cavendish  and 
Miss  L}iton,  in  which  they  promised  each  other  that  they 
would  both  be  married  on  the  same  day,  or  never  at  all." 

"A  very  silly,  girlish  compact." 

"Very." 

"Why  do  they  not  break  it  by  mutual  consent?" 

"Because  mutual  consent  cannot  be  had.  Miss  Caven- 
dish indeed  offers  to  release  Miss  Lytton  from  her  prom- 
ise; but  Miss  Lytton  refuses  to  be  released.  And  although 
her  clerical  lover  presses  her  to  name  an  earlier  day,  she 
will  name  no  other  than  the  day  upon  which  Miss  Caveu- 
dish  also  weds,  be  that  day  sooner  or  later." 

"Where  are  you  stopping,  Craven?"  softly  inquired  ^[rs. 
Grey. 

"Oh,  at  the  same  hotel  from  which  you  dated  vour  let- 
ter. I  thought  you  were  there,  so  I  ^vent  directly  there 
from  the  cars.  When  I  inquired  for  you — I  hope  you  will 
pardon  my  indiscretion  in  inquiring  for  you,"  he  said, 
breaking  off  from  his  discourse. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  will  pardon  it ;  but  it  was  a  very  great  indis- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  123 

cretion,  you  thoughtless  boy,  for  a  handsome  youth  like 
you  to  be  inquiring  for  a  young  widow  like  me  at  a  public 
hotel.    Xow  go  on  with  what  you  were  talking  about." 

"Well,  when  I  inquired  for  you,  they  told  me  you  had 
left  this  very  morning,  and  they  gave  me  your  present 
address." 

"That  was  the  way  in  which  you  found  me?" 

"That  was  the  way  I  found  you.  But,  before  starting 
to  come  here,  I  engaged  my  room  at  that  hotel;  for  after 
it  had  been  blessed  by  your  dear  presence,  it  had  quite  a 
home-like  feeling  to  me,"  said  the  lover,  fervently. 

"How  long  do  you  stay  in  the  city.  Craven,  dear?" 
sweetly  inquired  the  siren. 

His  face  clouded  over. 

"I  must  return  to-morrow,"  he  said.  "It  was  the  only 
condition  upon  which  our  principal  would  consent  to  my 
leaving  yesterday.  He  is  going  ^N'orth  to  purchase  his  fall 
and  winter  goods,  you  see,  and  wants  me  to  be  there." 

"How  long  will  he  be  absent?" 

"He  says  only  four  days,  at  the  longest." 

"And  when  does  he  go?" 

"By  the  next  train  following  my  return." 

"Then  he  will  be  back  again  at  his  post  by  Saturday 
evening?" 

"Yes;  in  fact  he  intends  to  be  back  by  the  end  of  the 
week,  and  that  is  the  very  reason  why  he  is  so  anxious  to 
get  away  to-morrow  night." 

"Craven,  dear,  when  your  senior  partner  gets  back,  do 
you  think  j^ou  will  be  able  to  return  here  for  a  few  days?" 

"Do  you  really  wish  me  to  come  back  so  soon?"  ex- 
claimed the  lover,  his  face  flushing  all  over  with  pleasure. 

"Yes;  but  don't  cry  out  so  loud — ^that's  a  dear!  I  re- 
peat, there  are  people  in  the  next  room.  But  you  have 
not  yet  answered  my  question." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  can  return  here  as  soon  as  my  partner  gets 
back.  He  promised  that  I  should  take  a  week's  holiday 
tJien.     So,  if  he  gets  back  on  Saturday  evening,  expect  to 


1^4}  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

see  me  here  on  Sunday  morning,  in  time  to  wait  on  you 
to  church." 

"  Stop ;  not  so  fast,  my  dear.  You  can  take  your  week's 
holiday  at  any  time,  I  suppose  ?" 

"At  any  time  this  month  or  next." 

"Very  well.  Now,  dear  boy,  I  want  you  to  promise  me 
two  or  three  things." 

"I  will  promise  you  anything  in  the  world  you  wish." 

"Then  listen.  Every  time  I  write  to  you,  I  will  enclose 
within  my  letter  another  letter,  sealed  and  directed  to  me, 
which  you  must  stamp  and  post  at  the  Wendover  post  office. 
Will  you  do  that  for  me  ?" 

"Wliile  she  spoke,  the  young  man  gazed  at  her  in  un- 
qualified amazement. 

"Will  you  do  that  for  me?"  she  repeated. 

"I  solemnly  promise  to  do  that  for  you,  although  T  am 
all  in  the  dark  as  to  what  you  would  be  at,"  earnestly  an- 
swered Craven  Kyte. 

"I  thank  you,  dearest  dear,"  cooed  the  siren,  caressing 
him  tenderly. 

"I  would  do  anything  in  the  world  for  you."  he  an- 
swered fervently.     "I  would  die  for  you,  or  live  for  you." 

"Well,  secondly,  I  want  you,  when  you  go  back,  to  keep 
an  eye  on  Mr.  Alden  Lytton.  Find  out,  if  possible,  the 
day  that  he  comes  to  this  city.  And  precede  him  here  your- 
self by  one  train.  Or  if  that  is  not  possible,  if  you  cannot 
find  out  beforehand  the  day  that  he  is  to  come,  at  lea.st 
you  can  certainly  know  when  he  actually  does  start,  for 
every  passenger  from  Wendover  is  noticed.  And  then  fol- 
low him  by  the  next  train,  and  come  directly  from  the 
depot  to  me,  before  going  to  a  hotel,  or  showing  yourself 
at  any  other  place.    Will  you  do  that  for  me?" 

"I  promise  you  on  my  sacred  word  and  honor,  that  T 
will,  although  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  why  you  wish 
me  to  do  this !"  said  Craven. 

"You  are  a  true  knight,  worthy  of  any  lady's  love. 
Well,  thirdly  and  lastly,  as  the  preachers  say,  I  wish  you 
to  promise  me  never  to  divulge  to  a  human  being  any- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  125 

thing  that  has  been  said  between  us  during  this  inter- 


view. 

"  I  not  only  promise,  but  I  solemnly  vow,  in  the  sight  of 
Heaven  and  all  the  holy  angels,  sacredly  to  observe  the 
silence  you  require  of  me,  although  I  feel  more  and  more 
deeply  mystified  by  all  this." 

"You  must  trust  in  me,  my  dear,  blindly  trust  in  me  for 
the  present,  and  in  time  you  shall  know  why  I  require 
these  things  of  you,"  she  said  very  sweetly. 

"  I  trust  in  you  blindly,  utterly,  eternally,"  answered  the 
lover. 

"And  now,  do  you  know  what  your  reward  shall  be?" 

"Your  smile  of  approval  will  be  my  all-sufficient  re- 
ward," exclaimed  the  young  man  earnestly. 

"AH,  but  you  shall  hear.  When  you  have  done  these 
little  favors  for  me,  and  one  more  which  I  will  tell  you 
about  when  you  come  back  from  Wendover,  then — "  she 
said,  pausing,  and  looking  at  him  with  a  bewildering  smile. 

"Then?  Yes?  Then?  "  eagerly  aspirated  the  young 
man,  gazing  at  her  in  rapt  admiration  and  expectancy. 

"Then  I  will  give  you  my  hand  in  marriage.  I  solemnly 
promise  it." 

"Oh,  you  angel!  you  angel!  you  have  made  me  so 
happy  f"  fervently  breathed  the  infuriated  lover,  as  he  drew 
her,  unresisting,  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart. 

At  this  point  there  was  heard  the  sound  of  light  foot- 
steps approaching. 

And  tlie  moment  after,  several  of  the  lady  boarders 
opened  the  door  and  entered  the  room. 

Craven  Kyte,  always  shy  of  strangers,  arose  to  take 
leave. 

A-  he  did  so,  he  seemed  suddenly  to  recollect  somc- 
thintr. 

He  put  his  hand  in  his  breast  pocket  and  drew  forth  a 
little  box,  which  he  handed  to  Mrs.  Grey,  saying : 

"It  is  your  brooch  that  you  requested  me  to  get  from 
the  jeweler." 

And  then,  with  a  bow,  he  left  her. 


126  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Mary  Grey  went  back  to  her  room. 
"I  shall  succeed  in  ruining  them  all  now,"  she  said,  her 
dark  eyes  on  fire  with  anticipated  triumph ! 


CHAPTER  XXV 

A  VERY  DESPERATE  GAME 

Craven  Ktte,  the  infatuated  and  doomed  instrument 
and  victim  of  a  cruel  and  remorseless  woman,  returned  to 
Wendover  and  resumed  his  place  in  Bastiennello's  estab- 
lishment, where  he  culpably  neglected  his  business,  and 
lived  only  on  the  thought  of  receiving  her  daily  letters 
and  of  soon  returning  to  Richmond  to  be  blessed  by  her 
promised  hand  in  marriage. 

Every  morning  he  was  the  first  man  at  the  post  office, 
waiting  eagerly,  impatiently,  for  the  arrival  and  opening 
of  the  mail. 

And  he  was  never  disappointed  of  receiving  her  letter, 
and — never  satisfied  with  its  contents. 

Every  letter  was  in  itself  something  of  a  mortification 
to  him,  containing  no  expression  of  confidence  or  affec- 
tion, no  word  by  which  any  one  might  suspect  that  the 
correspondent  was  writing  to  one  she  loved  and  trusted, 
much  less  to  her  betrothed  husband. 

Every  letter  began  and  ended  in  the  most  polite  and 
formal  manner;  never  alluded  to  the  matrimonial  inten- 
tions between  the  correspondents,  but  treated  only  of 
church  services,  Sunday  schools,  sewing  circles,  and  mis- 
sionary matters,  until  the  young  man,  famishing  for  a 
word  of  affection,  with  pardonable  selfishness,  sighed  forth : 

"She  is  a  saint;  but  oh,  I  wish  she  was  a  little  less  de- 
voted to  tlie  heathen,  and  all  that,  and  a  little  more  affec- 
tionate to  me." 

But  the  instant  afterward  he  blamed  himself  for  ego- 
tism, and  consoled  himself  by  saying: 


VrCTOR'S  TRKBIPH  1S7 

"Slie  always  told  me  that,  however  much  she  loved,  she 
would  never  write  love  letters,  as  they  might  possibly  fall 
into  the  hands  of  irreverent  and  scoffing  people  who  would 
make  a  mockery  of  the  writer.  It  is  a  far-fetched  idea; 
but  still  it  is  her  idea,  and  I  must  submit.  It  will  be  all 
riglit  when  I  go  to  Richmond  and  claim  her  darling  hand." 

And  the  thought  of  this  would  fill  him  with  such  ecstasy 
that  he  would  long  to  tell  some  one,  his  partner  especially, 
that  he  was  the  happiest  man  on  earth,  for  he  was  to  be 
married  in  a  week  to  the  loveliest  woman  in  the  world. 
But  he  was  bound  by  his  promise  to  keep  his  engagement, 
as  well  as  all  other  of  his  relations  with  the  beautiful 
widow,  a  profound  secret.  And  though  the  poor  fellow 
was  a  fool,  he  was  an  honorable  fool,  and  held  his  pledged 
word  sacred. 

Every  letter  that  came  to  him  also  contained  another 
letter,  to  which  it  never  referred  by  written  word.  This 
inclosed  letter  was  sealed  in  an  envelope  bearing  the  initial 
"L"  embossed  upon  its  flap.  And  it  was  directed  to  "Mrs. 
Mary  Gre}^,  Old  Crane  Manor  House,  Eichmond." 

Craven  Kyte  would  gaze  at  this  mysterious  letter  in  the 
utmost  confusion  and  obscurity  of  mind. 

"Now,  why  in  the  world  does  she  write  a  letter  and  di- 
rect it  to  herself,  and  sent  it  to  me  to  post  privately,  by 
night,  at  the  Wendover  post  office  ?  And  why  did  she  give 
me  only  verbal  instructions  about  it?  And  why  does  she 
avoid  even  alluding  to  it  in  her  letter  to  me?  Why  is  the 
envelope  stamped  with  the  letter  L?  And  why,  oh,  why 
does  the  handwriting  so  closely  resemble  that  of  Mr.  Lyt- 
ton?"  he  inquired  of  himself,  as  his  eyes  devoured  the 
superscription  of  the  letter. 

"I  cannot  tell,-'  he  sighed.  "It  is  too  deep  for  my 
fathoming.  I  give  it  up.  I  /tnust  blindly  do  her  bidding, 
trusting  in  her  implicitly,  as  I  do,  and  as  I  will." 

Then,  following  her  verbal  instructions  given  him,  in 
Riclimon'd,  in  regard  to  these  mysterious  letters,  he  put  it 
away  until  dark,  and  then  stole  out  and  dropped  it  secretly 
into  the  night  box  at  the  post  office. 


128  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Five  days  passed,  in  which  lie  received  and  re-mailed 
three  of  these  inexplicable  documents. 

Then  on  Saturday  morning  Bastiennello,  the  head  of 
his  firm,  returned  to  Wendover,  and  resumed  control  of 
his  business. 

On  the  evening  of  the  same  day  a  van  arrived  from 
Blue  Cliff  Hall,  bringing  the  heavy  baggage  of  Mr.  Alden 
Lytton,  to  be  deposited  at  the  railway  station  and  left  until 
Monday  morning,  when  the  owner  intended  to  start  for 
Richmond  by  the  earliest  train. 

When  Craven  Kyte  heard  this,  he  went  straight  to  his 
principal  and  claimed  his  promised  leave  of  absence. 

"Why,  Kyte,  you  are  in  a  tremendous  hurry.  Here  I 
have  not  been  back  twelve  hours  and  you  want  to  be  off," 
said  Bastiennello,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders. 

"It  is  a  case  of  necessity,  sir,  believe  me,"  pleaded 
Craven  Kyte. 

"And  this  is  Saturday  night,  the  busiest  time  in  the 
whole  week,"  complained  Bastiennello. 

"Well,  sir,  you  will  not  keep  open  after  twelve,  will 
you?" 

"Certainly  not  after  eleven." 

"i^or  will  you  need  my  services  after  that  hour,'' 

"Of  course  not." 

"Then  that  will  enable  me  to  serve  here  as  usual  until 
the  hour  of  closing,  and  then  give  me  time  to  catch  tj.e 
midnight  train  to  Richmond." 

"Oh,  well  if  you  can  do  that,  it  will  be  all  right,  and  I 
can  have  no  objection  to  your  going  to-night,"  said  Bas- 
tiennello. 

And  so  the  affair  was  concluded. 

The  great  village  bazaar  closed  at  eleven  that  night. 

As  soon  as  he  had  put  up  the  last  shutter.  Craven  Kyte 
rushed  off  to  his  humble  lodgings,  stuffed  a  carpetbag  full 
of  needed  clothing,  and  hurried  to  the  railway  station  to 
catch  the  train. 

It  came  thundering  along  in  due  time,  and  caught  up 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  129 

the  waiting  victim  and  whirled  him  along  on  his  road  to 
ruin,  as  far  as  Richmond,  where  it  dropped  him. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  all  the 
church  bells  were  ringing,  when  the  train  ran  into  the  sta- 
tion. 

Craven  Kyte,  carpetbag  in  hand,  rushed  for  the  gentle- 
men's dressing-room  nearest  the  station,  hastily  washed 
his  face,  combed  his  hair,  brushed  his  clothes,  put  on  a 
clean  collar  and  bosom  piece,  and  fresh  gloves,  and  hur- 
ried off  to  old  St.  John's  Church,  which  he  thought  the 
most  likely  place  on  that  Sunday  forenoon  to  meet  Mary 
Grey. 

The  service  was  more  than  half  over  when  he  reached 
the  church,  but  he  slipped  in  and  seated  himself  quietly  on 
one  of  the  back  seats  near  the  door,  and  looked  all  over 
the  heads  of  the  seated  congregation,  to  see  if  he  could 
discover  his  beloved  in  the  crowd. 

Yes,  there  she  was,  in  a  front  pew  of  the  middle  aisle, 
immediately  under  the  pulpit. 

To  be  sure  he  could  only  see  the  back  of  her  head  and 
shoulders,  but  he  felt  that  he  could  not  be  mistaken. 

And  from  that  moment  he  paid  but  little  attention  to 
the  service. 

Do  not  mistake  the  poor  soul.  He  was  not  impious. 
He  had  been  religiously  brought  up  in  the  family  of  the 
late  Governor  Cavendish.  He  was  accustomed  to  be  de- 
vout during  divine  worship.  And  on  this  occasion  he 
wrestled  with  Satan — that  is  with  himself — and  tried  to 
fix  his  mind  in  succession  on  anthems,  psalms,  collects  and 
sermon.  All  to  little  purpose.  His  mind  went  with  his 
eyes  toward  Mary  Grey. 

And  even  when  he  closed  those  offending  orbs,  he  still 
found  her  image  in  his  mind. 

At  length  the  sermon  was  finished,  and  the  benediction 
pronounced. 

The  congregation  began  to  move  out. 

Craven  Kyte  went  out  among  the  first,  and  placed  him- 


130  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

self  just  outside  the  gate  to  wait  until  his  adored  should 
pass  by. 

In  a  continued  stream  the  congregation  poured  forth 
out  of  the  church  until  nearly  all  had  passed  out,  but  still 
he  did  not  see  Mary  Grey. 

In  truth,  that  popularity-seeking  beauty  was  lingering  to 
bestow  her  sweet  smile  and  honeyed  words  upon  "all  and 
sundry"  who  would  give  her  the  opportunity. 

At  length,  among  the  very  last  to  issue  from  the  church, 
was  Mrs.  Grey. 

She  came  out  chatting  demurely  with  a  group  of  her 
friends. 

Craven  Kyte  made  a  single  step  toward  her,  with  the 
intention  of  speaking;  but  seeing  that  she  did  not  notice 
him,  and  feeling  abashed  by  the  presence  of  strangers  about 
her,  he  withdrew  again,  and  contented  himself  with  follow- 
ing at  a  short  distance  until  he  saw  her  separate  herself 
from  the  group  and  turn  down  a  by-street. 

Then  he  quickened  his  footsteps,  turned  down  the  same 
street,  and  joined  her. 

At  the  same  instant  she  looked  back  upon  him  with  a 
smile,  saying: 

"You  clever  boy!  how  good  and  wise  of  you  to  refrain 
from  speaking  to  me  before  so  many  strangers.  Now 
what  is  the  news?" 

"The  news  is — oh,  my  dear,  dearest,  dearest  Mary!  T 
am  so  delighted  to  meet  you !"  he  exclaimed,  breaking  sud- 
denly off  from  his  intended  communications. 

"So  am  I  to  see  you,  darling.  But  that  is  no  news. 
Come,  this  is  a  quiet  street,  and  leads  out  of  the  city.  Let 
us  walk  on,  and  as  we  walk  you  can  tell  me  all  the  news," 
she  said,  smilingly,  resting  her  delicate  hand  on  his  arm. 

"I  can  tell  you  nothing — ^nothing  yet,  but  that  I  love 
you!  I  love  you!"  he  fervently  breathed,  as  he  drew  her 
arm  within  his  own  and  pressed  her  hand  to  his  bosom. 

"And  I  love  you,"  she  murmured,  in  the  lowest,  sweet- 
est music.    And  then,  after  a  moment's  pause,  she  added, 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  131 

gayly:  "And  now  tell  me  what  has  brought  you  here  so 
suddenly." 

"Did  I  not  promise  you  that  I  would  be  in  Richmond 
this  Sunday  morning,  in  time  to  attend  you  to  church?" 

"Yes,  you  did,  but " 

"Well,  I  could  not  get  in  so  early  as  I  intended,  be- 
cause I  came  on  the  train  that  leaves  Wendover  at  mid- 
night. So  I  did  not  reach  the  city  until  nearly  noon  to- 
day. However,  if  I  was  not  in  time  to  attend  you  to 
church,  I  was  in  time  to  attend  you  from  church.  So  I 
kept  my  promise  tolerably  well." 

"Yes;  but,  my  dear  friend,  I  particularly  requested  that 
you  would  wait  at  Wendover  and  watch  certain  events, 
and  not  come  to  Richmond  until  something  had  happened 
or  was  about  to  happen." 

"Well,  then?" 

"You  gave  me  your  word  that  you  would  do  as  I  di- 
rected you." 

"Yes,  certainly  I  did." 

"Then,  seeing  you  here,  I  am  to  presume  that  all  the 
conditions  of  your  engagement  have  been  fulfilled." 

"Yes,  they  have,  dear  lady  mine." 

"First,  then,  as  you  were  not  to  come  here  until  Mr. 
Alden  Lytton  was  about  to  start  or  had  started  for  thi:s 
place,  why,  I  am  to  presume,  by  seeing  you  here,  that  Mr. 
Lytton  is  either  present  in  the  city  or  on  his  way  here." 

"Mr.  Lytton  will  leave  Wendover  for  Richmond  by  the 
earliest  train  to-morrow.  He  will  be  here  to-morrow  eve- 
ning," said  Craven  Kyte,  gravely. 

"You  are  absolutely  sure  of  this?"  inquired  Mrs.  Grey. 

"As  sure  of  it  as  any  one  can  be  of  any  future  event. 
His  heavy  baggage  came  over  from  Blue  Cliff  Hall  yester- 
day evening,  and  was  left  at  the  station  to  be  ready  for 
transportation  on  Monday  morning,  when  Mr.  Lytton  in- 
tended to  take  the  earliest  train  for  tliis  city." 

"Then  there  can  Ije  no  mistake,"  said  Mary  Grey. 

"None  whatever,  I  think." 


132  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"You  say  3'ou  have  fulfilled  all  the  conditions  of  our 
engagement  ?" 

"Yes,  dearest,  I  have,  indeed." 

"How  about  those  letters  I  inclosed  to  you  to  be  re- 
mailed  V 

"I  received  them  all,  and  remailed  them  all.  Did  you 
get  them?  You  never  acknowledged  the  receipt  of  one 
of  them,  however,"  said  Craven  Yiyie,  thoughtfully. 

"I  got  them  all  safe.  There  was  no  use  in  acknowledg- 
ing them  by  letter,  as  I  expected  to  see  you  so  soon,  and 
could  acknowledge  them  so  much  better  by  word  of  mouth. 
But  that  is  not  exactly  what  I  meant  by  my  question, 
darling.  Of  course,  I  knew  without  being  told  that  you 
had  remailed  all  those  letters,  as  I  had  received  them  all.^' 

"Then  what  was  it  you  wished  me  to  tell  you,  dearest 
Mary?  Ask  me  plainly.  I  will  tell  you  anything  in  the 
world  that  I  know." 

"Only  this:  Did  you  post  those  letters  with  groat 
secrecy,  taking  extreme  care  that  no  one  saw  you  do  it?" 

"My  dearest,  I  took  such  care  that  I  waited  until  tlie 
dead  of  night,  when  no  one  was  abroad  in  the  village,  and 
I  stole  forth  then,  and  all  unseen  dropped  the  letters  into 
the  night  box." 

"You  darling!  How  good  you  are!  What  shall  I  ever 
do  to  repay  you  ?"  exclaimed  the  traitress,  with  well-acted 
enthusiasm. 

"Only  love  me!  Only  love  me!  That  will  richly  re- 
pay me  for  all !  Ah !  only  love  me !  Only  love  me  truly, 
and  I  will  die  for  you,  if  necessary,"  fervently  breathed 
the  poor,  doomed  young  man,  fondly  gazing  upon  her,  who, 
to  gain  her  own  diabolical  end,  was  almost  putting  his 
neck  into  a  halter. 

"You  foolish  darling!  Why,  you  would  break  my  heart 
by  dying !  You  can  only  make  me  happy  by  living  for  me," 
she  said,  with  a  smile. 

"I  would  live  for  you,  die  for  you,  suffer  for  you,  sin  for 
you,  do  anything  for  you,  bear  anything  for  you,  be  any- 
thing for  .you !"  he  burst  forth,  in  a  fervor  of  devotion. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  133 

"There,  there,  dearest!  I  know  you  would.  I  know 
it  all.  But  now  tell  me :  Have  you  kept  our  engagement 
a  profound  secret  from  every  human  being,  as  I  requested 
you  to  do?" 

"Yes,  yes,  a  profound  secret  from  every  human  being, 
on  my  sacred  word  and  honor!  Although  it  was  hard  to 
do  that.  For  as  I  walked  up  and  down  the  streets  of  Wcn- 
dover,  feeling  so  happy,  so  happy,  that  I  am  sure  I  must 
have  looked  perfectly  wild,  as  the  people  stared  at  me  so 
suspiciously,  I  could  scarcely  help  embracing  all  my  friends, 
and  saying  to  them,  ^Congratulate  me,  for  I  am  engaged 
to  the  loveliest  woman  in  the  world,  and  I  am  the  happiest 
man  on  earth !'    But  I  kept  the  secret." 

"You  mad  boy !  You  love  too  fast  to  love  long,  I  doubt. 
After  a  month  or  two  of  married  life,  you  will  grow  tired 
of  me,  I  fear,"  said  Mary  Grey,  with  mock  gravity. 

"Tired  of  you  !  Tired  of  heaven  !  Oh,  no,  no,  no  !"  he 
burst  forth,  ardently. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

THE  HAUNTED  COTTAGE 

She  suddenly  brought  him  down  to  the  earth  with  a 
homely  remark. 

"I  am  tired  of  walking.  And  here  is  a  vacant  house 
placarded  'To  Lef  with  a  nice  long  porch  in  front.  Come, 
let  us  go  in  and  sit  down  on  one  of  tlie  benches  and  rest." 

And  she  drew  him  toward  the  little  gate  that  led  into 
the  yard  in  front  of  the  house. 

It  was  a  rustic  two-story  frame  cottage,  with  a  long 
porch  in  front,  all  overgrown  with  honeysuckles,  clematis, 
woodbine  and  wild  roses. 

They  went  in  together  and  sat  down  on  the  porch,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  blooming  and  fragrant  vines. 

Then  she  turned  and  looked  at  him  attentively  for  the 
first  time  since  they  met  at  the  church. 


134  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"You  look  tired,"  she  said,  with  alluring  tenderness. 
"You  look  more  exhausted  than  I  feel.  And  that  is  say- 
ing a  great  deal,  for  I  am  quite  out  of  breath." 

^'1  am  grieved  that  you  feel  so,  dearest !  It  was  selfish 
and  thoughtless  in  me  to  keep  you  walking  so  long,"  said 
Craven,  epmpunctiously. 

"  Oh,  it  is  nothing !  But  about  yourself.  You  really  look 
quite  prostrated." 

"  Do  I,  dearest  ?  I  am  not  conscious  of  fatigue.  Thougli, 
indeed,  I  should  never  be  conscious  of  that  by  your  dear 
side." 

"Now,  tell  the  truth,"  she  said,  again  bringing  him  down 
from  his  flights.  "Have  you  had  your  breakfast  this  morn- 
ing?" 

"Breakfast?  I — don't  remember,"  he  said,  with  a  per- 
plexed air. 

"Come  to  your  senses,  and  answer  me  directly.  What 
have  you  taken  this  morning?"  she  demanded,  with  a 
pretty  air  of  authority. 

"I Let  me  see.     I  believe  I  bought  a  package  of 

lemon  drops  from  a  boy  that  was  selling  them  in  the  cars. 
I — I  believe  I  have  got  some  of  them  left  yet,"  he  said, 
hesitating,  and  drawing  from  his  pocket  one  of  those  little 
white  packets  of  candy  so  commonly  sold  on  the  train. 

Mary  Grey  burst  into  a  peal  of  soft,  silvery  laughter  as 
she  took  them,  and  said : 

"An  ounce  of  lemon  drops  and  nothing  else  for  break- 
fast !  Oh,  Cupid,  god  of  love,  and  Hebe,  goddess  of  health, 
look  here,  and  settle  it  between  you !" 

"But  I  do  not  feel  hungry.  It  is  food  enough  for  me 
to  sit  her  and  feast  upon  the  sight  of  your  face,  your 
beautiful  face !" 

"You  frenzied  boy !  I  see  that  I  must  take  care  of  you. 
Come,  now  that  we  have  recovered  our  breath,  we  will  go 
on  a  little  further  to  a  nice,  quiet,  suburban  inn,  kept  by 
an  old  maid.  I  have  never  been  there  myself,  but  I  have 
seen  it,  in  driving  by  with  the  rector's  family.  It  is  such 
a  nice  place  that  the  school  children  go  there  to  have  picnic 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  135 

parties  in  the  grounds.  We  will  go  and  engage  a  parlor, 
and  have  a  quiet  little  breakfast  or  dinner,  which  ever  you 
may  please,  for  it  sliall  combine  the  luxuries  of  both.  Now 
will  you  go?"  said  Mary  Grey,  rising  from  her  shady  seat. 

"Of  course,  if  you  wish  me  to  do  so;  but  indeed  I  do 
not  need  anything." 

"  But  I  do ;  for  I  breakfasted  at  seven  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing before  going  to  the  Sunday-school.  It  is  now  one 
o'clock.  I  have  been  fasting  six  hours,  and  as  I  intend 
to  spend  the  most  of  the  day  with  you,  I  shall  miss  our 
luncheon  at  home;  for,  you  see,  we  are  deadly  fashionable 
at  the  Miss  Cranes'.  We  lunch  at  two  and  dine  at  six. 
So  come  along." 

Craven  Kvte  arose  and  gave  her  his  arm,  and  they 
walked  on  together  till  they  reached  the  little  cottage,  half 
farmhouse,  half  hotel,  that  was  so  well  kept  by  the  nice 
old  maiden  hostess. 

The  good  woman  looked  rather  surprised  to  see  Sunday 
visitors  walk  into  her  house. 

But  Mary  Grey,  prayer-book  ostentatiously  in  hand,  took 
her  aside  out  of  the  hearing  of  Craven  Kyte,  and  explained : 

"I  and  my  brother  walked  in  from  the  country  to  at- 
tend church  this  morning.  We  have  a  carriage  and  might 
have  ridden,  only  we  do  not  think  it  is  right  to  make  the 
horses  work  on  Sunday,  do  you  ?" 

"No,  miss,  I  candidly  don't;  and  that's  a  fact,"  replied 
the  good  creature. 

"Mrs.,"  amended  Mary  Grey,  with  a  smile. 

"  *Mrs.,'  of  course.  I  beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,  but  you 
looked  so  young,  and  I  may  say  childish,  and  I  didn't 
notice  the  widow's  cap  before,"  apologized  the  hostess. 

"Well,  as  we  had  no  friends  in  the  town — no  one  with 
whom  we  could  stop  to  dinner — I  and  my  brother  set  out 
to  walk  home  again.  He  is  an  invalid,  and  is  quite  ex- 
hausted with  fasting  and  fatigue.  So  perhaps,  under  the 
circumstances,  you  would  not  mind  letting  us  have  a  parlor 
to  rest  in,  and  a  little  dinner." 

"Of  course  not,  ma'am;  for  under  such  circumstances 


156  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

it  is  clearly  my  duty  to  entertain  you,"  answered  the  good 
soul,  who,  under  no  possible  circumstances,  would  have 
been  false  to  her  ideas  of  right. 

"You  are  very  kind.  I  thank  you  very  much,"  said 
Mary  Grey,  sweetly. 

"Here  is  a  room  at  your  and  your  brother's  disposal, 
ma'am.  No  one  will  intrude  upon  you  here,"  said  the 
ho-^toss,  opening  a  door  that  led  to  a  neat  back  parlor, 
whose  windows  overlooked  the  garden  and  orchard  attached 
to  the  house. 

^ome,"  said  Mary  Grey,  beckoning  to  her  companion. 

"Dear  me!  I  never  saw  a  brother  and  sister  look  so 
much  alike  as  you  two  do,"  remarked  the  hostess,  admir- 
ingly, as  she  showed  them  into  the  back  parlor. 

She  left  them,  promising  to  send  in  a  nice  dinner. 

"And  coffee  with  it,  if  you  please,"  added  Mary  Grey, 
as  the  landlady  went  out. 

"Yes,  certainly,  ma'am,  if  you  wish  it,"  she  answered, 
as  she  disappeared. 

Mary  Grey  went  to  the  back  window  and  looked  out 
upon  the  pleasant  garden,  verdant  and  blooming  with 
shrubs,  rosebushes  and  flowers. 

Craven  Kyte  joined  her. 

"Did  you  hear  that  old  lady  call  us  brother  and  sister?" 
inquired  the  young  man. 

"Yes,"  answered  Mary  Grey,  with  her  false  smile.  "But 
I  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  set  her  right." 

"And  she  said  we  looked  so  much  alike,"  smiled  Craven. 

"We  have  both  dark  hair  and  dark  eyes.  And  we  are 
both  rather  thin  in  flesh.  That  is  the  beginning  and  the 
ending  of  her  likness.  And  her  imagination  did  the  rest," 
explained  Mary  Grey. 

They  were  interrupted  by  a  pretty  mulatto  girl,  who 
came  in  to  lay  the  cloth  for  dinner. 

And  this  girl  continued  to  flit  in  and  out  of  the  room, 
bringing  the  various  articles  of  service,  until,  on  one  of 
her  temporary  absences,  Craven  Kyte  exclaimed: 

"I  would  rather  have  sat  and  fasted  with  you  under 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  137 

that  pretty  porch  of  the  old  roadside,  empty  house  than 
sit  at  a  feast  here,  with  that  girl  always  running  in  and 
out  to  interrupt  us." 

"Never  mind,  dear.  As  soon  as  we  get  something  to 
eat  we  will  go/^  said  Mary  Grey,  with  her  sweet,  false 
smile. 

In  a  reasonable  time  a  dainty  little  dinner  was  placed 
upon  the  table,  consisting  of  broiled  chickens,  green  corn, 
asparagus  and  mashed  potatoes,  with  fragrant  coffee  for 
a  beverage,  and  peaches  and  cream  for  dessert. 

When  they  had  partaken  of  this,  and  had  rested  a  while. 
Craven  Kyte  went  out  and  paid  the  bill.  And  Mary  Grey 
again  drew  the  landlady  aside,  out  of  hearing  of  her  com- 
panion, and  said: 

"We  are  so  much  rested  and  refreshed  by  your  admira- 
ble hospitality  that  my  brother  and  myself  think  we  shall 
walk  back  to  town  and  attend  afternoon  service." 

The  good  hostess  smiled  approval,  but  expressed  a  hope 
that  they  would  not  overdo  themselves. 

Mary  Grey  smiled  and  took  leave,  and  walked  off  with 
her  captive. 

They  went  on  until  they  came  in  front  of  the  vacant 
house  with  the  vine-clad  porch. 

"Come,  won't  you  rest  here  a  little  while?"  inquired 
Craven  Kyte,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  latch  of  the  gate. 

"Yes,  for  a  little  while  only,"  said  Mary  Grey,  consult- 
ing her  watch.  "It  is  now  half-past  three  o'clock,  and 
service  commences  at  half-past  four.  And  I  must  be  at 
church  in  time  for  the  commencement  of  the  service.  You 
will  go  to  church  with  me,  of  course,"  she  added. 

^f  course,"  answered  Craven  Kyte,  emphatically. 

"I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  ask  you  to  sit  with  me;  but 
the  fact  is,  I  have  only  one  seat  that  I  can  call  my  own 
in  a  crowded  pew,  belonging  to  the  Blairs.  But  you  can 
walk  with  me  to  church,  and  join  me  again  after  the  ser- 
vice," exclaimed  Mary  Grey. 

"I  should  so  much  like  to  sit  by  your  side,"  said  poor 
Craven,  with  a  disappointed  look. 


138  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"Don't  you  see,  my  dear,  it  is  quite  impossible?  The 
service,  however,  is  short,  and  I  will  join  you  immediately 
after  it." 

And  as  they  talked  they  went  in  and  sat  down  on  the 
porch. 

"This  is  a  pretty  little  old-fashioned  cottage.  Don't  you 
think  so  ?"  inquired  the  beauty,  as  they  looked  around  them. 

"Very  pretty,"  agreed  her  victim,  who  would  equally 
have  agreed  to  anything  she  might  have  proposed. 

"Look!  What  a  fine,  luxuriant  garden  it  has  behind 
it,  all  growing  wild  with  neglect." 

"Yes." 

"And  the  orchard  back  of  that!  See  the  trees  bending 
under  their  loads  of  ripening  apples  or  peaches." 

"Yes.  It's  a  wonder  the  boys  don't  go  in  and  steal 
them.^» 

"No  bov  would  enter  there,  for  love  or  money." 

"Why?" 

"Because  this  is  the  house  in  which  Barnes  killed  his 
wife  and  child,  in  a  fit  of  insane  jealousy,  and  the  place 
has  the  terrible  reputation  of  being  haunted." 

"Oh!" 

"Yes;  it  is  said  that  the  ghost  of  a  weeping  woman, 
carrying  a  weeping  child  in  her  arms,  is  seen  to  wander 
through  garden  and  orchard  at  all  hours  of  the  night,  or 
to  come  in  and  look  over  the  beds  of  the  sleepers  in  the 
house,  if  any  are  found  courageous  enough  to  sleep  there." 

"Oh!  and  that  is  the  reason,  I  suppose,  that  the  house 
remains  untenanted,"  said  Craven  Kyte. 

"Yes,  that  is  the  reason  why  the  house,  pleasant  and 
attractive  as  it  looks,  remains  untenanted;  and  why  the 
garden  and  orchard,  with  their  wealth  of  flowers  and  fruit, 
remain  untouched  by  trespassers,"  said  Mrs.  Grey. 

"It  is  a  pity  such  a  pi-etty  place  should  be  so  abandoned," 
mused  the  young  man. 

"It  is.  But,  you  see,  family  after  family  took  it  and 
tried  to  live  in  it  in  vain.  No  family  could  stay  longer 
than  a  week.    It  has  now  been  untenanted  for  mor«  than 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  139 

a  year.  I  have  heard  that  the  owner  offers  to  rent  it  for 
the  paltry  sum  of  fifty  dollars  a  year." 

"For  this  delightful  house  !" 

"For  this  haunted  house,  you  mean/'  said  Mrs.  Grey. 

"  Oh,  nonsense !  I  beg  your  forgiveness,  my  dearest,  1 
did  not  mean  that  for  you,  but  for  the  gabies  that  believe 
in  ghosts,"  said  Craven  Kyte. 

"  Then  you  do  not  believe  in  ghosts  ?" 

a  J  p> 

"Well,  I  thought  you  did  not.  In  fact,  I  knew  you  did 
not.  Now,  I  want  you  to  do  something  to  please  me," 
said  the  siren,  laying  her  soft  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Anything  in  this  world,  you  know,  I  will  do  to  please 
you." 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

HER   SLAVE 

"Well,  I  want  you  to  rent  this  house." 

Craven  K3'te  started  with  surprise,  and  looked  at  the 
speaker. 

She  went  on,  however,  regardless  of  his  astonishment. 

"And  I  want  you  to  purchase  furniture  enough  to  fit  up 
one  room  for  yourself ;  and  I  want  you  to  do  that  the  first 
thing  to-morrow.  And  I  want  you  to  lodge  here  alone, 
while  you  remain  here  in  Richmond." 

He  still  stared  at  her  in  amazement,  but  with  no  sign 
of  a  wish  to  disobey  her  strange  commands. 

She  went  on  with  her  instructions. 

"You  can  walk  into  the  city,  and  take  your  meals  at 
any  restaurant  you  please,  but  you  must  lodge  here  alone, 
while  you  stay  in  the  city." 

"I  will  do  so,"  he  answered,  earnestly,  as  he  recovered 
the  use  of  his  tongue — "I  will  do  anything  you  tell  me. 
I  am  entirely  under  your  orders." 

"You  are  the  best  fellow  in  the  whole  world,  and  I  love 


140  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

the  very  ground  you  walk  on!"  exclaimed  the  traitress, 
warmly. 

He  grasped  her  hand  convulsively  and  pressed  it  to  his 
lips,  and  then  waited  her  further  directions. 

"To  reward  you,  I  will  come  out  here  every  morning 
and  spend  the  whole  day  with  you." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  heavenly !  I  should  be  willing  to  live 
in  a  cave  on  such  delightful  conditions." 

"But,  mind,  my  dearest  one,  you  must  not  come  to  see 
me  at  my  boarding-house,  or  to  try  to  meet  me,  or  to 
speak  to  me,  after  to-day,  anywhere  I  am  known,"  added 
Mrs.  Grey,  gravely. 

"Oh,  that  seems  very  hard!"  sighed  the  victim,  with  a 
look  of  grief,  almost  of  suspicion. 

""\Yliy  should  it  seem  hard,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  will 
come  out  here  every  morning  to  spend  the  whole  day  with 
you?"  inquired  Mrs.  Grey. 

"But  why,  then,  can  I  not  go  home  with  you,  and  spend 
the  whole  evening  in  your  company  at  your  boarding- 
house  ?"  pleaded  the  poor  fellow. 

"Because  we  should  have  no  comfort  at  all  in  a  whole 
parlor  full  of  company,  as  there  is  at  the  Miss  Cranes' 
every  evening.  And  because  we  should  be  talked  about 
in  that  gossiping  boarding-house  circle.  And,  finally,  be- 
cause I  should  much  rather  stay  with  you  alone  here  in 
this  house,  where  there  is  no  one  to  criticize  us,  as  late 
every  evening  as  I  possibly  can,  and  let  you  walk  home  with 
me  and  leave  me  at  the  door  at  bedtime.  Now,  don't  you 
think  mine  the  better  plan?" 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  if  3'ou  really  will  spend  the  evenings 
with  me  also." 

"Why,  certainly  I  will.  And  now  let  us  walk  on  to 
church.  And  mind,  you  must  leave  me  at  the  church  door 
and  find  a  seat  for  yourself,  while  I  go  to  mine.  After 
church  I  will  come  out  here  with  you  again,  and  sit  with 
you  all  the  evening.  I  have  no  doubt  the  good  woman  at 
the  rustic  inn  down  the  road  will  give  us  tea,  as  she  gave 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  141 

us  dinner,"  said  the  beauty,  as  she  arose  and  slipped  her 
hand  within  her  companion's  arm. 

They  left  the  house  together  and  walked  on  to  the  church. 

And  the  program  for  the  afternoon  and  evening  was 
carried  on  according  to  the  beautiful  schemer's  arrange- 
ment. 

After  the  services  were  concluded  they  walked  out  to 
the  suburban  inn,  where  the  simple-minded  hostess  will- 
ingly agreed  to  furnish  tea  for  such  a  pious  church-going 
brother  and  sister. 

And  when  they  had  had  this  tea,  Mary  Grey,  to  beguile 
the  landlady,  took  her  willing  captive  for  a  walk  further 
out  toward  the  country;  and  then  returning  b}^  a  round- 
about route,  came  to  the  vacant  roadside  cottage,  where, 
as  the  September  evening  was  very  warm,  they  sat  under 
the  vine-clad  porch  until  ten  o^clock. 

Then  they  walked  back  to  the  town  together. 

Craven  Kyte  took  Mary  Grey  to  the  gate  of  her  board- 
ing-house, where,  as  the  place  was  silent  and  deserted,  they 
paused  for  a  few  last  words. 

''Mind — the  first  thing  you  do  to-morrow  morning  will 
be  to  go  and  find  the  owner  of  the  haunted  house,  and 
rent  it  from  him,"  said  the  widow. 

"Yes,"  answered  her  white  slave. 

"And  the  next  thing  you  do  will  be  to  go  and  buy  the 
furniture  necessary  to  fit  up  one  room  for  yourself,  and 
have  it  taken  out  there  and  arranged." 

"Yes,"  he  answered  again,  very  submissively. 

"That  will  take  you  nearly  all  day,  I  think." 

"I  will  hurry  through  the  business  as  fast  as  I  can,  so 
that  I  may  see  you  sooner.  When  can  I  see  you  to-mor- 
row?" he  pleaded. 

"At  seven  o'clock  to-morrow  evening  wait  for  me  at  the 
haunted  house.  I  will  come  and  stay  with  you  there  until 
eleven." 

"  Oh,  that  is  so  long  to  wait !    May  I  not  see  you  sooner  ?" 

"Impossible!  I  have  a  sacred  duty  to  do  to-morrow 
that  will  engage  me  all  day.     But  you,  too,  will  be  busy. 


U2  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

And  we  can  look  forward  all  day  to  our  meeting  in  the 
evening.  And  after  to-morrow  we  can  meet  every  morn- 
ing, and  spend  the  whole  day  together,"  said  the  traitress, 
sweetly. 

"I  suppose  I  must  be  content,"  sighed  the  victim. 

"Now,  good-night,  dear.  And  good-by  until  to-mor- 
row night,"  murmured  the  siren,  as  she  gave  her  lover  a 
Judas  kiss  and  dismissed  him. 

Mary  Grey  hurried  into  the  drawing-room,  where  the 
Miss  Cranes  were  still  sitting  up. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Grey,  we  feared  that  something  had  hap- 
pened to  you,"  said  the  elder  Miss  Crane. 

"  Oh,  no.  I  went  to  see  one  of  my  Sunday-school  pupils, 
whom  I  missed  from  my  class,  and  whom  upon  inquiry 
I  found  to  be  ill  at  home.  I  have  spent  the  whole  day 
with  the  sick  child,  except  the  hours  spent  at  church.  And 
I  must  go  to  see  her  again  to-morrow  morning,"  said  the 
widow,  with  a  patient  smile. 

"How  good  you  are,"  murmured  Miss  Crane. 

Mary  Grey  shook  her  head  deprecatingly,  bowed  good- 
niglit  to  the  slim  sisters,  and  went  upstairs  to  her  own 
room. 

Early  the  next  morning  Mary  Grey,  telling  her  hostesses 
that  she  was  then  going  to  sit  with  the  sick  child,  left  the 
old  manor  house  and  walked  rapidly  to  the  railway  station 
and  took  a  ticket  for  Forestville,  a  village  about  twenty 
miles  from  the  city,  on  the  Eichmond  &  Wendover  Rail- 
road. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

A  HAPPY  LOVER 


On-  that  Monday  morning  Alden  Lytton  left  Blue  Cliff 
Hall  with  his  heart  full  of  joy  and  thankfulness. 

He  was  the  accepted  lover  of  Emma  Cavendish.  And 
he  was  so,  somewhat  to  his  own  amazement,  for  he  had 
not  intended  to  propose  to  her  so  soon. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  143 

She  was  a  very  wealthy  heiress,  and  he  was  a  poor 
young  lawyer,  just  about  to  begin  the  battle  of  life. 

They  were  both  still  very  youth,  and  could  afford  to 
wait  a  few  3^ears.  And,  ardently  as  he  loved  her,  he  wished 
to  see  his  way  clearly  to  fame  and  fortune  by  his  profession 
before  presuming  to  ask  the  beautiful  heiress  to  share  his 
life. 

But  the  impulse  of  an  ardent  passion  may,  in  some  un- 
guarded hour,  overturn  the  firmest  resolution  of  wisdom. 
This  was  so  in  the  case  of  Alden  Lytton. 

Up  to  Saturday,  the  last  day  but  one  of  his  stay  at  Blue 
Cliff  Hall,  the  lovers  were  not  engaged. 

Rumor,  in  proclaiming  their  engagement,  had  been,  as 
she  often  is,  beforehand  with  the  facts. 

But  on  that  Saturday  evening,  after  tea,  Alden  Lytton 
found  himself  walking  with  Emma  Cavendish  up  and  down 
the  long  front  piazza. 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  night.  There  was  no  moon,  but 
the  innumerable  stars  were  shining  with  intense  brilliancy 
from  the  clear,  blue-black  night  sky ;  the  earth  sent  up  an 
aroma  from  countless  fragrant  flowers  and  spicy  shrubs; 
the  dew  lay  fresh  upon  all ;  and  the  chirp  of  myriads  of  lit- 
tle insects  of  the  night  almost  rivaled  the  songs  of  birds 
during  the  day. 

And  so  the  night  was  filled  with  the  sparkling  light  of 
stars,  the  fresh  coolness  of  dew,  the  rich  perfume  of  vege- 
tation, and  the  low  music  of  insect  life. 

The  near  mountains,  like  walls  of  Eden,  shut  in  this 
beautiful  scene. 

x\lden  Lyton  and  Emma  Cavendish  sauntered  slowly  up 
and  down  the  long  piazza,  feeling  the  divine  influence  of 
the  hour  and  the  scene,  without  thinking  much  about 
either. 

Indeed,  they  thought  only  of  each  other. 

They  were  conscious  that  this  was  to  be  their  last  walk 
together  for  many  months,  perhaps  for  years. 

Something  to  this  effect  Alden  murmured. 


lU  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

He  received  no  reply,  but  he  felt  a  tear  drop  upon  his 
hand. 

Then  he  lost  his  self-control.  The  strong  love  swelling 
in  His  soul  burst  forth  into  utterance,  and  with  impas- 
sioned tones  and  eloquent,  though  broken,  w^ords,  he  told 
her  of  his  most  presuming  and  almost  hopeless  love. 

And  then  he  waited,  trembling,  for  the  rejection  and  re- 
buke that  his  modesty  made  him  more  than  half  expect. 

But  no  such  rebuff  came  from  Emma  Cavendish. 

She  paused  in  her  walk,  raised  her  beautiful  eyes  to  his 
face,  and  placed  both  her  hands  in  his. 

And  in  this  manner  she  silently  accepted  him. 

How  fervently  he  thanked  and  blessed  her ! 

Emma  Cavendish  had  always  been  a  dutiful  daughter  to 
the  doting  old  lady  in  the  "throne  room;"  so  that  night, 
before  she  slept,  she  went  in  and  told  her  grandmother  of 
her  engagement  to  Alden  Lytton. 

Now,  by  all  the  rules  of  wrong,  Madam  Cavendish  should 
have  resolutely  set  her  face  against  the  betrothal  of  her 
wealthy  granddaughter  to  a  young  lawyer  with  no  fortune 
of  his  own,  and  with  his  way  yet  to  make  in  the  world. 

And  if  the  old  lady  had  been  somewhat  younger,  she 
would  probably  have  done  this  very  thing. 

But  as  it  was,  she  was  "old  and  childish,"  which  means 
that  she  was  more  heavenly  minded  and  nearer  heaven 
than  she  ever  had  been  since  the  days  of  her  own  infancy 
and  innocence. 

So,  instead  of  fixing  a  pair  of  terrible,  spectacled  eyes 
upon  the  young  girl  and  reading  her  a  severe  lecture  upon 
"the  eternal  fitness  of  things,"  as  illustrated  in  wealth  mat- 
ing with  wealth  and  rank  with  rank,  she  looked  lovingly 
upon  her  granddaughter,  held  out  her  venerable  hand,  and 
drew  her  up  to  her  bosom,  kissed  her  tenderly,  and  said  : 

"Heaven  bless  you,  my  own  darling!  This  has  come 
rather  suddenly  upon  me;  but  since,  in  the  course  of  na- 
ture, you  must  sometime  marry,  I  do  not  know  a  young 
gentleman  in  this  world  to  whom  I  would  as  soon  see  you 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  145 

married  as  to  Mr.  Alden  Lvtton.  But,  ni}-  child,  I  do  not 
think  you  ought  to  be  married  very  soon,"  she  added. 

"N^o,  dear  grandma,  I  know  that,"  said  Emma,  kneeling 
down  by  her  side,  and  tenderly  caressing  and  kissing  her 
withered  hands.  ''No,  dear  grandma,  I  will  never  leave 
3'ou,  never  for  any  one,  not  even  for  him  !" 

"My  darling  child,  you  mistake  my  meaning.  It  is  not 
for  the  selfish  purpose  of  keeping  you  here,  near  me,  that  I 
advise  you  to  defer  your  marriage  for  a  time.  It  is  be- 
cause I  think  it  is  decorous  that  some  months  should  elapse 
between  the  betrothal  of  a  young  pair  and  their  wedding. 
Though,  of  course,  there  are  some  cases  in  which  a  short 
engagement  and  a  speedy  marriage  become  expedient,  or 
even  necessary.  As,  for  instance,  my  child,  if  I  felt  myself 
near  death  now,  I  should  certainly  wish  to  hasten  your 
marriage,  rather  than  leave  you  unprotected  in  this  world." 

Emma  Cavendish  could  only  kiss  her  grandmother's 
hands,  and  thank  her  through  falling  tears. 

"And  now,  my  child,  I  must  go  to  sleep.  I  always  want 
to  go  to  sleep  after  anything  exciting  has  happened  to  me. 
Good-night,  and  may  Heaven  bless  you,  my  love,"  said 
the  old  lady,  affectionately,  as  she  dismissed  her  grand- 
daughter. 

While  Emma  Cavendish  was  talking  with  her  grand- 
mother, Alden  Lytton  went  into  the  parlor,  where  he  found 
liis  sister  alone,  sitting  by  one  of  the  windows,  gazing 
thoughtfully  out  upon  the  beautiful  night. 

He  drew  a  chair  to  her  side,  seated  himself,  and,  with  his 
arm  around  her  waist,  told  her  of  his  new-born  happiness. 

She  congratulated  him  fervently  and  earnestly ;  and 
then,  returning  confidence  for  confidence,  told  him  of  her 
engagement  to  the  young  minister  of  Vrendover. 

For  rumor,  in  Mr.  Lyle's  and  Miss  Lytton's  case,  also, 
had  anticipated  the  facts,  and  had  reported  their  betrothal 
all  over  the  country  long  before  it  was  announced  to  their 
nearest  friends. 

Alden  Lytton,  with  all  his  approving  heart,  wished  his 


146  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

sister  joy  in  her  prospective  union  with  the  worthy  young 
clergyman. 

And  then  the  two,  talking  together  over  their  future, 
decided  that  they  must  write  at  once  to  their  Uncle  John 
Lytton,  and  inform  him  of  their  engagements. 

Alden  undertook  to  write  a  letter  on  the  part  of  both  his 
sister  and  himself  that  night. 

And  on  further  discussion,  it  was  decided  that  at  the  close 
of  her  visit  to  Blue  Cliff  Hall,  Laura  should  go  to  Lytton 
Lodge  to  make  a  visit  to  her  relatives  there. 

The  entrance  of  Emma  Cavendish  put  an  end  to  the  dis- 
cussion, and  was  the  occasion  of  new  congratulations. 

The  next  morning  Madam  Cavendish  sent  for  Alden 
L}i;ton  and  Emma  Cavendish  to  come  up  to  her  room  to- 
gether. 

And  she  then  and  there  read  them  a  grave  and  affection- 
ate little  lecture  upon  the  duties  and  responsibilities  of  an 
engaged  couple,  gave  them  her  blessing,  and  dismissed  them 
to  go  to  church. 

That  Sunday  morning  every  one  at  Blue  Cliffs  knew  of 
the  betrothal  of  Mr.  Lytton  to  the  young  mistress  of  the 
hall. 

And  on  Monday  morning  all  the  county  knew  it,  just 
as  well  as  they  had  known  it  a  month  before  it  happened. 

And  every  one  said  over  once  more  what  they  had  al- 
ready said  so  often — that  it  was  a  great  pity  the  daughter 
of  the  late  Governor  Cavendish  should  be  allowed  to  throw 
herself  and  her  wealth  away  upon  a  penniless  young  for- 
tune-hunter like  Alden  Lytton,  and  all  for  the  want  of  a 
proper  guardian  at  hand  to  restrain  her.  Old  Madam 
Cavendish,  they  said,  was  no  better  than  none  at  all.  And 
really,  the  Orphans'  Court  ought  to  interfere,  etc. 

But  the  very  bitterest  of  the  malcontents  were  parents 
with  marriageable  sons  of  their  own,  any  one  of  which 
might  one  day  have  aspired  to  the  hand  of  the  heiress. 

Little  cared  the  happy  lovers  what  their  neighbors  might 
think  about  their  betrothal.  i 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  14.7 

Tliey  parted  that  morning,  not  with  tears,  but  with 
bright  smiles,  and  promises  of  frequent  correspondence. 

Alden  Lj'tton  stopped  in  Wendover  to  take  leave  of  his 
friend,  Mr.  Lyle,  and  to  announce  the  betrothal  of  Miss 
Cavendish  and  himself. 

x\nd  then,  scarcely  waiting  to  receive  the  congratulations 
of  the  minister,  he  hurried  off  to  catch  his  train  for  Rich- 
mond. 

An  hour  after  this,  Mr.  Lyle  had  an  interview  with  Vic- 
tor Hartman,  and  delighted  that  poor  fellow's  soul  with 
the  announcement  of  the  betrothal. 

And  on  the  same  day  Mr.  Lyle,  commissioned  by  A^ictor 
Hartman,  went  to  Blue  Cliff  Hall,  and  requested  an  in- 
terview with  Madam  Cavendish. 

The  old  lady,  thinking  this  was  the  usual  pastoral  call 
from  the  minister,  sent  word  for  him  to  come  up  to  her 
room. 

And  there  she  received  him  alone,  and  after  the  usual 
greetings,  opened  the  conversation  herself  by  informing 
him  of  the  betrothal  of  her  grandaughter  to  Mr.  Alden 
Lytton. 

"It  was  upon  that  very  subject  that  I  came  to  see  you, 
madam,  on  the  part  of  the  young  gentleman's  guardian," 
replied  the  minister,  and  then  and  there  he  announced  the 
fact  that  Mr.  Alden  Lytton's  "guardian"  would  be  pre- 
pared to  pay  down  to  his  ward  one  Hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars on  the  day  of  his  marriage  with  Miss  Cavendish. 

"Emma  has  money  enough,"  said  the  old  lady,  "but  that, 
indeed,  is  very  liberal.  I  never  could  understand  about 
that  secret  guardian,  friend,  patron,  or  whatever  you  might 
call  him,  of  the  young  Lyttons,"  she  added,  as  if  she  would 
have  liked  some  information  on  the  subject. 

"Xo,  madam,  and  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  not  yet  at  lib- 
erty to  tell  you  more  about  him.  This,  however,  I  may 
say,  that  he  is  able  and  willing  to  keep  his  word." 

And  so  that  interview  ended. 


148  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

ON  TO  MEET  HIS  FATE 

Meanwhile,  Alden  Lytton  sped  on  toward  the  city. 

He  traveled  by  the  express  train,  which  stopped  at  but 
few  stations. 

About  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  train  made  its 
longest  pause  at  a  little  station  about  midway  between 
Wendover  and  Kichmond,  where  it  stopped  twenty  min- 
utes for  dinner. 

Many  of  the  passengers  left  the  train  to  stretch  their 
cramped  limbs,  or  to  satisfy  their  hunger. 

Alden  Lvtton  got  out  and  went  into  the  waiting-room, 
when  the  first  form  his  eyes  fell  upon  was  that  of  Mary 
•Grey. 

She  looked  pale,  weary  and  harassed,  as  she  sat  alone 
on  one  of  the  benches,  with  a  small  carpetbag  at  her  feet. 

Now,  iVlden  Lytton's  heart  was  so  full  of  happiness  that 
it  expanded  with  affection  for  the  whole  human  race,  and 
•even  warmed  with  sympathy  for  this  erring  woman,  who 
had  once  possessed  and  forfeited  his  faithful  boyish  love. 

And  now,  in  his  compassion,  he  went  to  her,  and,  smil- 
ing very  kindly,  he  said : 

"Why,  Mrs.  Grey!  I  am  so  surprised  to  see  you  here, 
and  alone,  too!"  he  added. 

"^Vhen,  since  I  left  Blue  Cliff  Hall,  have  you  ever  seen 
me  when  I  have  not  been  alone  ?'^  she  inquired,  with  a  sad 
smile. 

''True,"  he  answered,  gently,  "even  in  a  church,  or  a 
crov,'ded  parlor,  you  have  still  been  ever  alone.  But  why 
shoald  this  be  so,  while  you  have  so  many  faithful  friends? 
Miss  Cavendish,  I  know,  is " 

She  put  up  her  hand  to  stop  him.  She  turned  paler 
than  before,  and  trembled  as  with  a  chill.  For  she  had 
loved  this  man  only,  of  all  that  she  had  fascinated  and 
fooled,  she  had  loved  him  utterly;  and  even  now,  when 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  149 

she  bitterly  hated  him,  she  could  not  bear  to  hear  her  rival's 
name  from  his  lips. 

"  *The  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness,'  "  she  mur- 
mured, in  faltering  tones.  "Let  us  talk  of  something  else. 
I  came  down  here  to  bring  some  funds  that  I  had  collected 
from  charitable  friends  for  a  poor  family  who  were  burned 
out  near  this  village.  And  now  I  am  going  back  by  tliis 
train.  Pray,  pardon  my  nervousness.  But  the  crowd  and 
bustle  and  excitement  of  a  railway  station  always  does  make 
me  very  nervous." 

"You  need  refreshment.  Come  to  the  table  with  me  and 
have  something.  There  is  yet  plenty  of  time,"  he  said, 
kindly,  offering  her  his  arm. 

He  felt  so  safe  and  happy  in  his  wisely  placed  affection 
and  firmly  based  engagement  to  Emma  Cavendish  that  he 
could  afford  to  be  very  kind  to  this  poor  woman,  although 
she  had  once  possessed — and  by  her  conduct  forever  for- 
feited— his  honest  youthful  love. 

He  gave  her  his  arm  and  led  her  away  to  the  dining- 
room,  where  a  crowd  was  collected  at  the  refreshment  table. 

There  was  a  whisper  between  two  attendants  as  they 
passed  by. 

"Hush!  that  is  the  young  fellow  she  has  been  waiting 
here  to  meet.    It  is  a  ri?naway  marriage,  bless  you  !'' 

This  whisper  reached  the  ears  of  x\lden  L}i;ton  and 
Mary  Grey. 

Alden  L}i;ton  paid  no  attention  to  it,  thinking  that  it 
referred  to  some  "levanting"  youth  and  girl  who  had 
chosen  this  station  for  their  escapade. 

But  Mary  Grey  smiled  grimly  to  herself  as  she  heard  it. 

They  had  barely  time  to  get  a  cup  of  coffee  each  before 
the  warning  shriek  of  the  steam  engine  called  the  passen- 
gers to  take  their  places. 

Alden  Lytton  drew  his  companion's  arm  within  his  own, 
led  her  into  the  ladies'  car,  put  her  into  a  comfortable  seat, 
and  took  his  place  beside  her. 

Purposely  suggested  by  Mary  Grey's  own  calculated 
actions  while  waiting  at  the  statical,  a  whisper  had  got. 


150  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

around  among  the  attendants  that  the  lovely  young  lady 
in  black  had  come  down  to  meet  her  lover  and  elope  with 
him;  and  from  the  attendants  it  had  reached  the  ears  of 
some  of  the  passengers. 

And  now,  as  Alden  Lytton  placed  himself  innocently 
enough  on  the  seat  beside  Mary  Grey,  the  eyes  of  several 
of  their  fellow-travelers  turned  with  curiosity  toward  them. 

Certainly  the  demeanor  of  both  rather  favored  the  idea 
of  their  being  a  pair  of  engaged  lovers. 

Alden  Lytton,  with  his  beaming  and  happy  face,  and 
his  careful  attentions  to  his  companion,  wore  the  look  of 
a  successful  suitor  and  prospective  bridegroom.  Mary 
Grey,  with  her  pale,  pretty  face  and  nervous  manner,  had 
as  much  the  appearance  of  a  runaway  girl,  trembling  and 
frightened  at  what  she  was  daring. 

Meanwhile  the  train  whirled  onward,  bearing  many 
passengers  to  happy  homes  or  on  pleasant  visits;  but  car- 
rying one  among  them  on  to  crime  and  another  to  disaster. 

As  they  drew  near  the  end  of  the  journey,  the  crowd  in 
the  ladies'  car  was  thinned  out  by  the  leaving  of  passen- 
gers at  the  smaller  stations,  until  at  length  Alden  Lytton 
and  Mary  Grey  were  left  nearly  alone,  and  quite  out  of 
hearing  of  any  fellow-traveler. 

Then  Alden  said  to  her : 

"I  hope  you  have  some  plan  of  occupation  and  happiness 
for  3' our  future  life." 

"Yes,"  murmured  Mary  Grey.  "I  have  some  little  pros- 
pect. I  have  the  offer  of  a  very  good  position  in  a  first- 
class  ladies'  college  near  Philadelphia. '- 

"I  hope  it  will  suit  you." 

"I  do  not  know.  I  have  promised  to  go  on  and  see  the 
institution,  and  talk  with  the  principal,  before  concluding 
the  engagement." 

"That  would  be  safest,  of  course,"  said  Alden. 

"And  I  should  have  gone  on  a  day  or  two  since,  but 
the  Journey  with  its  changes  from  steamer  to  car  and  car 
to  steamer,  is  really  quite  a  serious  one  for  me  to  take 
alone,  especially  as  I  always  get  frightened  and  lose  my 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  151 

presence  of  mind  in  the  terrible  uproar  of  a  steamboat 
landing  or  a  railway  station." 

^'Then  you  should  never  undertake  such  a  journey 
alone/'  said  Aid  en,  compassionately. 

"jSTo,  I  know  it.  But  yet  I  shall  have  to  do  so,  unless  T 
can  hear  of  some  party  of  friends  going  on  in  a  few  days 
whom  I  could  join,"  sighed  Mary  Grey. 

"I  am  not  'a  party  of  friends,'  "  smiled  Alden;  ^'but  I 
am  one  friend  who  will  be  pleased  to  escort  you  on  that 
journey,  as  I  am  myself  going  to  Philadelphia  in  a  few 
days." 

"You!"  exclaimed  Mary  Grey,  in  well-affected  astonish- 
ment. 

"Yes,  madam,"  replied  Alden,  with  a  bow. 

"I  did  not  know  you  ever  went  North  at  all,"  she  added, 
lifting  her  eyebrows. 

"I  never  3'et  have  been  north  of  Baltimore,  strange  to 
say,"  smiled  Alden  Lytton;  "but  I  am  going  in  a  few  days 
to  Philadelphia  to  purchase  a  law  library,  and  should  be 
happy  to  escort  you  to  your  place  of  destination." 

"You  are  very  kind  to  me,  and  I  am  very  grateful  to 
you.  I  accept  your  offer,  and  will  try  to  give  you  as  little 
trouble  on  the  journey  as  possible." 

"Oh,  do  not  speak  of  trouble!  There  will  be  none,  I 
assure  you,"  said  Alden,  pleasantly. 

"You  are  very  good  to  say  so,  at  all  events." 

"What  day  would  it  suit  you  to  go  on?"  inquired  Alden. 

"Any  day  this  week,  whenever  it  will  be  convenient  to 
you.  I  am  the  obliged  party,  and  should  consider  your 
convenience." 

"jSTot  by  any  means.  Any  day  this  week  would  suit 
me  equally.    So  I  beg  that  you  will  please  yourself  alone." 

"Xo."  " 

"Let  me  be  frank  with  you,  then,  and  prove  how  little 
it  would  really  matter  to  me  whether  you  go  to-morrow 
or  any  day  thereafter.  I  have  to  select  and  fit  up  a  law 
office,  and  I  have  to  select  and  purchase  a  law  library ; 


152  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

and  I  do  not  care  in  the  least  which  I  do  first,"  said  Alden, 
with  earnest  politeness. 

''Then  if  it  is  realh^  a  matter  of  indifference  to  you,  I 
think  we  will  go  to  Philadelphia  on  Wednesday  morning." 

"Very  well.  I  will  make  my  arrangements  accordingly. 
This  is  Monday  night.  We  have  one  intervening  day. 
Where  shall  I  call  for  yon  on  Wednesday  morning?" 

"You  need  not  call.  I  will  meet  you  on  the  Washing- 
ton boat." 

"Just  as  you  please.    I  will  be  there." 

The  engine  shrieked  its  terrific  warning,  slackened  its 
speed,  and  ran  slowly  into  the  station. 

"I  will  call  a  carriage  for  you,"  said  Alden  Lytton. 

And  he  left  his  companion  in  the  waiting-room,  while 
he  went  out  and  selected  a  good  carriage  for  her  use. 

Then  he  came  back,  took  up  her  traveling-bag,  drew 
her  arm  in  his  own,  and  led  her  out  to  it. 

"Where  shall  I  tell  the  coachman  to  take  you  "  he  in- 
quired, when  he  had  placed  her  comfortably  in  her  seat. 

"To  the  Miss  Cranes',  Old  Manor,  near  the  government 
house,"  she  answered. 

Alden  Lytton  bowed  and  closed  the  door,  gave  the  order 
to  the  coachman,  and  then  walked  off  to  his  own  old  quar- 
ters at  the  Henrico  House. 

The  carriage  started,  but  had  not  gone  more  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  mile  when  Mrs.  Grey  stopped  it. 

The  coachman  got  off  his  box  and  came  to  the  window 
to  know  her  will. 

"Turn  into  the  Old  Paper  Mill  road.  I  vnsh  to  call  on 
a  sick  friend  there  before  going  home.  Go  on.  I  will  keep 
a  lookout,  and  stop  you  when  we  get  near  the  house." 

The  coachman  touched  his  hat,  remounted,  and  turned 
his  horses'  heads  to  the  required  direction. 

Mary  Grey  sat  close  to  the  left-hand  side  of  the  cushion, 
and  drew  the  curtain  away,  so  that  she  could  look  through 
the  window  and  watch  their  course. 

The  night  was  clear,  starlit,  and  breezy  after  the  hot 
September  day. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  153 

It  was  still  early,  and  the  sidewalks  were  enlivened  by 
young  people  sauntering  in  front  of  their  own  houses  to 
enjoy  the  refreshing  evening  air,  while  the  porches  and 
doorsteps  were  occupied  by  the  elders  taking  their  ease  in 
their  own  way. 

But  in  the  next  mile  the  scene  began  to  change,  and 
instead  of  the  populous  street,  with  its  long  rows  of  houses 
and  the  cheerful  sidewalks,  there  was  a  lonely  road  with 
detached  dwellings  and  occasional  groups  of  people.  In 
the  second  mile  the  scene  changed  again,  and  there  was 
an  old  turnpike,  with  here  and  there  a  solitary  roadside 
dwelling,  with  perhaps  a  man  leaning  over  the  front  gate 
smoking  his  pipe,  or  a  pair  of  lovers  billing  and  cooing 
under  the  starlit  sky. 

Mary  Grey  kept  a  bright  outlook  for  the  "haunted 
house,"  and  presently  she  recognized  it,  and  saw  a  light 
shining  through  the  little  front  window  under  the  vine- 
covered  porch. 

"He  is  there,  poor  wretch,  sure  enough,  waiting  for  me. 
I  feel  a  little  sorry  for  him,  because  he  loves  me  so  de- 
votedly. But,  heigho !  if  I  do  not  spare  myself,  shall  I 
spare  him?  No!"  said  Mary  Grey  to  herself,  as  she  or- 
dered the  coachman  to  draw  up. 

He  stopped  and  jumped  off  his  box,  and  came  and 
opened  the  carriage  door.  But  it  was  the  door  on  the  other 
side  of  the  carriage,  opposite  the  middle  of  the  road,  and 
not  opposite  the  house,  where  she  wanted  to  get  out. 

"Open  the  other  door,"  she  said. 

But  the  negro's  teeth  were  chattering  and  the  whites 
of  his  eyes  rolling,  in  fearful  contrast  with  the  darkness 
of  his  skin. 

"Open  the  other  door  and  let  me  out.  I  want  to  go 
into  that  house,"  repeated  Mrs.  Grey,  a  little  impatiently. 

"Dat  dere  house!  Oh,  laws-a-messy !  bress  my  soul, 
missy !  you  don't  want  to  go  in  dat  house !  Dat's  de 
haunted  house!  And,  oh,  law!  dere's  de  corpse  lights 
a-burnin'  in  dere  now!"  gasped  the  negro,  shudderingly, 
pointing  to  the  dimly  lighted  windows  under  the  porch. 


154i  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"You  bloclchead !  those  are  the  tapers  in  my  friend's 
sickroom.  Open  the  other  door,  I  tell  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Grey,  angrily. 

"  ^Deed,  Meed,  'deed,  missy,  you  must  souse  ole  nigger 
like  me.  I  dussint  do  it,  missy !  I  dussint  go  on  t'other 
side  ob  de  carriage  nex  to  de  ghoses  at  no  price,"  said  the 
negro,  with  chattering  teeth. 

Mary  Grey  turned  and  tried  to  open  the  other  door  for 
herself,  but  found  it  impossible,  and  then  turned  again 
and  said: 

"Well,  stand  out  of  my  way,  then,  you  idiot,  and  let 
me  out  of  this  door." 

The  negro  gave  way,  and  she  got  out  of  the  carriage 
into  the  middle  of  the  dusty  road. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  SACRIFICE 

At  the  same  moment  some  one  came  softly  through  the 
cottage  gate,  and  looked  up  and  down  the  road,  as  if  watch- 
ing for  some  one  else. 

As  Mary  Grey  came  around  the  carriage  to  the  front  of 
the  house,  she  recognized  in  the  watcher  Craven  K}i;e,  who 
at  the  same  instant  perceived  her. 

"Wait  here  for  me,"  she  said  to  the  frightened  enach- 
man,  as  she  walked  rapidly  toward  the  man  who  was  hurry- 
ing to  meet  her. 

"My  darling!  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  so  long!" 
he  said,  seizing  her  hand. 

"Hush !  The  coachman  might  hear  you,"  she  whispcriKl. 
"Let  me  come  in." 

He  drew  her  arm  within  his  own  and  led  her  into  the 
cottage,  and  into  a  cool,  well-lighted  and  tastefully  fur- 
nished parlor. 

Poor  fellow!     He  had  not  only  put  in  a  few  necessary 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  155 

articles  of  furniture  for  liis  own  sleeping-room,  but  he 
had  fitted  up  a  pretty  parlor  for  her  reception,  and  pro- 
vided a  dainty  feast  for  her  entertainment. 

To  do  this  in  time,  he  had  worked  like  a  mill-horse  all 
day  long,  and  he  had  spent  all  his  available  funds,  and 
even  pawned  his  watch  and  his  little  vanities  of  jewelry 
to  raise  more  purchase-money. 

And  now  he  felt  rewarded  when  he  saw  her  look  of 
surprise,  which  he  mistook  for  a  look  of  pleasure. 

There  w^as  an  Indian  m^atting  of  bright  light  colors  on 
the  floor,  white  lace  curtains  lined  with  rose-colored  cam- 
bric at  the  windows,  and  a  sofa  and  easy-chairs  covered 
with  rose-colored  French  chintz.  There  were  a  few  marble- 
top  stands,  and  tables  covered  with  white  crochet  work  over 
rose-colored  linings.  There  were  vases  of  fragTant  flowers 
on  the  mantel  shelf,  and  on  the  window-sills  and  stands, 
and  every  available  place. 

In  the  center  of  the  room  stood  a  small  table,  covered 
with  fine  white  damask,  decorated  with  a  Sevres  china  set 
for  two,  and  loaded  with  a  variety  of  choice  delicacies — 
delicious  cakes,  jellies,  fruits,  preserves  and  lemonade. 

"This  is  a  surprise,"  said  Mary  Grey,  sinking  into  one 
of  the  tempting  easy-chairs. 

"  Oh !  I  am  glad  you  like  it  as  it  is ;  but,  oh,  indeed,  I 
wish  ever3rthing  here  was  more  worthy  of  you.  If  it  were 
in  my  power  I  would  receive  and  entertain  you  like  a 
queen." 

"You  are  so  good,  so  thoughtful!  And  nothing  in  the 
world  could  be  pleasanter  than  this  cool,  pretty  parlor," 
said  Mary  Grey,  trying  to  rouse  herself  from  the  abstrac- 
tion into  which  she  had  fallen  after  her  first  look  of  sur- 
prise at  the  decorated  room;  for,  truth  to  tell,  her  mind 
was  occupied  with  graver  thoughts  than  appertained  to 
house  or  furniture,  flowers  or  fruits. 

"And  this  has  been  ready  for  you,  my  queen,  ever  since 
sunset.  And  here  I  have  sat  and  waited  for  you,  running 
out  every  five  minutes  to  see  if  you  were  coming,"  he  said, 
half  reproachfully. 


156  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"Well,  I  am  here  at  last,  you  impatient  boy!  I  could 
not  come  before.  I  was  sitting  with  a  sick  friend,  and 
could  not  leave  her  until  she  went  to  sleep,"  smiled  the 
siren. 

"I  shall  end  in  being  very  wickedly  jealous  of  your  sick 
friends,  and  your  poor  friends,  and  your  lame  friends,  and 
all  the  other  forlornites  that  take  you  away  from  me,  and 
keep  you  away  from  me  so  much,"  he  sighed. 

"Ah,  but  when  we  are  married  I  shall  give  up  this  sort 
of  life.  For  I  know  that  ^charity  begins  at  home';  and 
though  it  ought  not  always  to  stay  there,  yet  it  should 
stay  there  the  principal  part  of  its  time,"  smiled  the  witch. 

"Ah,  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  dearest  dear! 
You  will  stay  at  home  for  me  most  of  your  time,  then?" 

"It  will  be  my  delight  to  do  so." 

He  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it  ardently,  and  drew 
her  slightly  toward  him,  looking  at  her  longingly,  as  if 
pleading  for  a  closer  kiss. 

But  she  smiled  and  shook  her  head,  saEying,  archly: 

"Remember,  remember,  if  I  come  here  to  see  you,  you 
must  treat  me  with  some  respectful  reserve,  or  I  will  never 
come  again." 

"I  will  do  exactly  as  you  wish.  I  am  youT  slave,  and 
can  do  not  otherwise  than  as  you  bid  me,"  he  said,  with  a 
sigh. 

"That  is  a  good,  dear  boy!"  she  answered,  patting  his 
cheeks;  and  then  adding,  archly:  "A  few  days,  you  know, 
and  ^the  tables  will  be  turned.'  It  will  then  be  you  who 
will  have  the  right  to  command,  and  some  one  else  who 
must  ^obey.'  " 

As  the  Circe  murmured  these  words,  his  color  went  and 
came,  and  when  she  ceased  he  panted  out  his  answer : 

"Oh,  the  thought  of  ever  having  you  for  my  own  is — 
too  much  rapture  to  be  credited !  But,  Mary !  my  queen 
Mary !  then  and  ever  I  shall  be  your  slave  as  now!" 

"Well,  we'll  see,"  she  murmured,  smiling  and  caressing 
him.  "But  now  I  am  tired  and  hungry,  and  you  are  for- 
getting the  duties  of  a  host." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  .  157 

"  I  am  forgetting  everything  in  looking  at  your  beautiful 
face.  But  now,  will  you  let  me  take  off  your  bonnet  and 
shawl  here,  or  will  you  go  into  the  next  room  and  do  it  for 
yourself,  I  remaining  here  until  you  come  back?" 

"I  will  go  into  the  next  room,  if  you  please,"  said  Mary 
Grey. 

And  he  arose  and  opened  the  back  door  of  the  cottage 
parlor,  and  held  it  open  for  her. 

She  passed  through  into  a  prettily  furnished  and  well- 
lighted  little  bedroom,  whose  back  windows  opened  upon 
the  fragrant  flower-garden. 

Here  she  found  everything  prepared  for  her  comfort, 
as  if  it  had  been  done  by  the  hands  of  a  woman.  She  took 
off  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  brushed  her  clothes,  bathed  her 
face  and  hands,  smoothed  her  raven  ringlets,  took  a  fresh 
cambric  handkerchief  from  her  pocket,  and  saturated  it 
with  cologne  from,  the  toilet  table,  and  then  passed  out 
again  into  the  parlor. 

Her  devoted  slave  was  waiting  for  her  there.  And  on  the 
table,  in  addition  to  the  other  comforts,  there  was  a  little 
silver  pot  of  rich,  aromatic  coffee. 

"Why !  Have  you  a  cook  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Grey,  in  some 
disturbance. 

"  No,  darling.  I  made  that  coffee  myself.  Sit  down  now 
and  try  it,"  smiled  the  poor  fellow. 

"You  are  a  jewel,"  she  said,  as  all  her  disturbance  dis- 
appeared, and  she  sat  down  to  the  table. 

He  waited  on  her  with  affectionate  solicitude,  helping 
her  to  coffee  and  cream,  to  chicken  salad  and  pickled  oys- 
ters ;  changing  her  plate,  and  pressing  her  to  try  the  jellies 
and  the  cakes,  or  the  fruit  and  ices,  until  she  had  feasted 
like  a  princess. 

He,  in  the  meantime,  ate  but  little,  seeming  to  feed  upon 
the  sight  of  her  enjoyment.  At  length  she  pushed  her 
plate  and  cup  away,  and  declared  she  could  touch  nothing 
more. 

Then  he  arose  as  if  to  clear  the  service ;  but  she  stopped 
him,  saying:     "Leave  it  just  as  it  is,  and  come  and  sit 


158  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

with  me  on  the  porch  outside.  The  night  is  beautiful,  and 
I  want  to  sit  there  and  talk  with  you.  I  have  something 
to  propose." 

And  she  ran  into  the  back  room  for  her  bonnet  and 
shawl. 

He  got  up  and  gave  her  his  arm,  and  took  her  out  upon 
the  porch. 

And  they  sat  down  together  on  the  bench,  under  thickly 
overhanging  vine  leaves. 

"Craven,"  she  murmured,  with  her  head  upon  his  shoul- 
der, "do  you  really  love  me  as  much  as  you  profess  to  do  " 

"Do  I  really  love  you?"  he  repeated,  with  impassioned 
earnestness.  "Oh!  how  shall  I  prove  to  you  how  much? 
Protestations  are  but  words.  Show  me  how  I  can  prove 
to  you  how  much  I  love  you!  Put  me  to  the  test!  Try 
me  !  try  me  !" 

She  hesitated  and  sighed — perhaps  in  pity  and  remorse 
for  this  poor  boy,  who  loved  her  so  devotedly,  and  whom 
she  was  about  to  require  to  pay  down  his  honor  and  his 
life  as  the  price  of  her  hand. 

"Oh,  tell  me  how  I  can  show  you  the  height  and  depth 
and  breadth — no ;  I  should  rather  say  the  immeasurability 
of  my  infinite  love!"  he  pleaded,  prayerfully. 

Again  she  sighed  and  trembled — yes,  trembled  at  the 
contemplation  of  the  wickedness  she  was  about  to  perpe- 
trate ;  but  she  did  not  draw  back  from  it.  She  slid  her  arm 
around  his  neck  and  kissed  him  softly,  and  then  said : 

"Listen  to  me,  Craven,  my  dearest.  This  is  Monday 
night,  you  know." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  attentively. 

"On  Wednesday  morning  I  am  to  start  for  Philadel- 
phia." 

"Oh!"  he  exclaimed,  uneasily. 

"Hush!  Wait  until  you  hear  me  out.  You  must  meet 
me  in  Philadelphia  on  Friday  morning.  And  we  will  be 
married  on  Friday  noon." 

He  was  struck  speechless,  breathless  for  a  few  moments, 
with  the  excess  of  his  delight. 


VICTOR'S  TPJUMPH  159 

Then  he  panted  forth  the  words : 

^'  Oh,  bless  you  !  bless  you !  my  queen,  my  angel !  I  bless 
you  for  this  great  joy !" 

^'You  must  be  calm,  my  dear,  and  hear  me  out.  You 
mu«t  be  punctual,  and  meet  me  on  Friday  morning  at  ten 
o'clock,  at  this  address,"  she  continued,  handing  him  a 
slip  of  paper  with  the  address  in  question  written  upon  it. 
''There,  now,  put  it  into  your  pocketbook  and  keep  it  safe." 

"I  will,  I  will,  my  queen.  But  why  may  I  not  go  with 
you  ?" 

"For  reasons  that  I  will  explain  soon.  Till  I  do,  you 
must  trust  me.'- 

"I  trust  you  utterly." 

"Then,  please  leave  here  for  Philadelphia  on  Tuesday 
evening,  so  as  to  precede  me  by  twelve  hours.  And  on 
Friday  morning  by  ten  o'clock  be  at  the  place  I  have 
designated,  and  wait  until  I  join  you." 

"And  we  will  be  married  the  same  day?" 

"We  will  be  married  at  noon  the  same  day.  Now  do 
you  understand  ?" 

"My  mind  is  in  a  delirium  of  joy,  but  I  understand." 

"iSTow,  dearest,  you  must  take  me  out  to  the  carriage," 
she  said,  rising  and  drawing  her  shawl  around  her. 

He  gave  her  his  arm  and  led  her  out  to  the  carriage, 
which  the  frightened  negro  coachman  had  driven  quite  to 
the  opposite  side  of  the  road  from  the  terrible  "haunted 
house." 

"^Tow  go  on  to  the  Misses  Crane's,"  she  said,  after  she 
had  taken  leave  of  her  victim  and  settled  herself  in  her 
seat. 

It  was  nearly  twelve  o'clock  when  she  entered  her  board- 
ing-house ;  but  she  told  her  waiting  landladies  that  she  had 
spent  the  day  and  half  the  night  with  the  sick  child,  and 
they  were  satisfied. 


160  VICTOR'S  TRimiPH 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

A  FATAL  JOURNEY 

On  that  Wednesday  morning  the  fine  steamer  Poca- 
liontas  lay  at  her  wharf  receiving  freight  and  passengers 
for  Washington  and  Alexandria. 

Her  decks  were  crowded  with  men,  women  and  children, 
all  either  going  on  the  voyage,  or  "seeing  o2"  departing 
friends  and  acquaintances. 

Among  the  passengers  on  the  forward  deck  stook  a 
slight,  elegant,  graceful  woman,  clothed  in  widow's  weeds 
and  deeply  veiled. 

This  was,  of  course,  Mary  Grey,  bound  upon  her  bale- 
ful errand. 

She  had  spent  the  intervening  Tuesday  with  her  infat- 
uated instrument.  Craven  Kyte.  But  when  he  pleaded  to 
attend  her  to  the  boat  and  see  her  off,  she  forbade  his  doing 
so  on  pain  of  an  eternal  separation  from  her. 

But  she  renewed  their  agreement  that  he  should  precede 
her  by  twelve  hours,  and  meet  her  at  a  designated  place  in 
Philadelphia  on  Friday  morning. 

And  she  stayed  with  him  until  quite  late  in  the  evening, 
and  finally  left  him  comforted  with  the  hope  of  a  speedy 
meeting  and  a  certain  marriage. 

For  the  edification  of  her  landladies,  the  precise  Misses 
Cranes,  she  trumped  up  a  story  that  at  once  explained  the 
necessity  of  her  sudden  journey  North,  and,  as  usual,  re- 
bounded to  her  own  credit. 

She  had  received  a  telegram,  she  said,  from  a  friend 
who  had  just  lost  her  father,  and  who  was  in  great  afflic- 
tion. And  she  must  go  on  immediately  to  comfort  that 
bereaved  soul. 

The  Misses  Crane,  as  usual,  thought  she  was  an  angel 
in  woman's  form,  and  bade  her  heaven  speed  on  her  be- 
nevolent errand. 

And  now  she  stood  upon  the  deck  of.  the  Pocahontas^ 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  161 

waiting  for  that  traveling  companion  whom  she  had  fatally 
beguiled  to  be  her  escort. 

The  boat  was  getting  up  her  steam,  and  yet  he  had  not 
made  his  appearance. 

What  if  he  should  not  come,  after  all  ? 

Just  as  she  asked  this  question  it  was  answered  by  his 
rapid  approach. 

He  came  up,  traveling-bag  in  hand,  happy,  smiling,  ra- 
diant. 

"Mrs.  Grey,  I  have  been  looking  for  you  all  over  the 
boat.  I  feared  that  I  had  missed  you,"  he  said,  gayly, 
holding  out  his  hand. 

"I  have  been  waiting  for  you  here,''  she  answered,  with 
a  smile. 

"I  am  glad  to  find  you  at  last.  But  will  you  not  come 
into  the  cabin?  The  deck  is  not  a  pleasant  place  while 
the  boat  is  at  the  wharf,"  he  said,  as  he  offered  her  liis 
arm. 

She  thanked  him  with  a  smile,  took  his  arm,  and  let  him 
lead  her  into  the  saloon. 

It  was  at  that  moment  empty  of  other  visitors.  And 
those  two  were  tete-a-tete. 

He  gave  her  a  pleasant  seat,  placed  himself  beside  her, 
and  then  and  there  he  told  her  of  his  betrothal  to  Emma 
Cavendish. 

Of  course  she  already  knew  all  about  it.  But  he  was  not 
aware  of  her  knowledge.  And  his  motives  in  announcing 
the  intelligence  to  her  was  evident  even  to  Mary  Grey's 
vanity-blinded  mind.  It  was  to  set  their  own  relations  at 
once  upon  a  true  basis,  and  prevent  all  misunderstanding 
and  all  false  hopes  growing  out  of  their  long-lost  love. 

Although  she  had  known  all  this  so  well  before  he  spoke 
of  it,  yet  it  required  all  her  powers  of  self-control  and 
duplicity  to  listen  quietly  while  he  spoke  of  her  rival,  and 
to  affect  a  S3anpathy  with  his  happiness. 

Yet  she  did  this  so  well  that  he  was  thoroughly  de- 
ceived. 

"It  was  all  a  foolish  mistake,  our  fancying  we  loved  each 


162  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

other  so  much,  was  it  not,  Alden,  dear?"  she  inquired,  with 
an  arch  smile. 

"I  think  so,"  he  answered,  quite  frankly. 

"I  am  glad  to  hear  you  admit  that,  for  now  we  can 
understand  each  other  and  be  good  friends,  and  nothing 
more,"  she  added,  sweetly. 

^^Yes,  good  friends  always,  Mary,"  he  agreed. 

He  was  so  happy  in  his  blessed  love  for  Emma  Caven- 
dish that  he  felt  kindly  toward  all  the  world,  and  espe- 
cially toward  this  "friendless  young  widow,"  as  he  called 
her. 

"But  you  know,  Alden,  that  it  is  quite  common  for 
young  men  of  earnest  souls  like  yours  to  take  a  liking  to 
wom.en  older  than  themselves." 

"You  were  not  older  than  myself,  Mary." 

"Not  in  years,  perhaps,  but,  oh!  ever  so  much  in  suffer- 
ing, and  in  the  bitter  knowledge  of  the  world  it  brings. 
And  thus  for  this  reason  I  was  no  proper  wife  for  a  happy 
young  man  like  you.  No  young  man  should  ever  marry 
a  widow,  and  no  young  girl  should  ever  marry  a  widower. 
Our  fancied  love  for  each  other  was  a  mistake,  dear  Alden, 
and  I  am  very  glad  it  was  discovered  before  it  was  ren- 
dered irremediable." 

"So  am  I,"  replied  the  young  man,  quite  frankly.  "But 
dear  Mary,  I  hope  you  will  henceforth  look  upon  me  and 
my  dearest  Emma  as  your  brother  and  sister,  for  we  will 
be  truly  such  in  deed  as  well  as  in  word  to  you,"  he  added, 
with  grave  gentleness. 

"  I  know  you  will ;  I  feel  certain  of  that.  And  I  thank 
you  from  my  heart,  while  I  rejoice  in  your  happiness. 
Yours  will  be  a  good,  wise,  and  beautiful  marriage  with 
Emma,  Alden,"  she  murmured,  with  emotion. 

"Yes,  I  think  so  too.  Thanks  be  to  Heaven,"  replied 
the  young  man,  reverently  bowing  his  head. 

The  steamer  was  now  pushing  off  from  her  wharf  amid 
much  pulling,  hauling,  hallooing  and  shouting. 

You  couldn't  "hear  yourseK  think,"  even  in  the  cabin, 
for  a  while. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  163 

"We  are  off,  I  believe/'  said  Mary  Grey,  at  length,  when 
the  uproar  had  subsided,  and  they  were  moving  swiftly 
and  smoothly  along. 

"Yes.  Will  you  come  on  deck?  It  is  pleasanter  there 
now,"  said  Alden,  rising  and  offering  her  his  arm. 

She  took  it  with  a  smile,  and  let  him  lead  her  up  on 
deck. 

And  as  the}^  promenaded  slowly  up  and  down,  enjoying 
the  fine  September  morning  and  the  beautiful  river  scenery, 
Mary  Grey  drew  him  on  to  speak  of  Emma  Cavendish. 

Of  course  the  young  lover  desired  no  better  theme. 

And  in  this  way,  leading  him  to  discourse  of  his  love, 
listening  to  him  with  attention,  pretending  sympathy  with 
his  happiness,  she  effected  several  objects  important  to  the 
success  of  her  demoniac  plot.  She  pleased  him  with  him- 
self and  with  her.  She  dispelled  his  suspicions,  if  any  still 
lurked  in  his  candid  soul,  and  she  kept  him  always  near 
her,  talking  with  her,  and  unconsciously  attracting  the  at- 
tention of  their  fellow-voyagers,  and  leading  them  to  be- 
lieve that  this  handsome  young  man,  speaking  so  earnestly 
in  such  low  tones  to  his  companion,  and  the  lovely  widow, 
who  was  listening  to  him  with  such  rapt  attention,  were  a 
pair  of  happy  and  devoted  lovers. 

Thus  passed  the  forenoon. 

"V^Tien  the  early  steamboat  dinner  was  ready,  he  took 
her  down  to  the  table,  sat  beside  her,  and  assiduously  at- 
tended to  her  wants. 

After  dinner,  when  she  was  disinclined  to  walk  or  to 
talk,  he  brought  out  some  newspapers  and  magazines  and 
sat  down  beside  her  on  deck,  and  they  read  together. 

At  teatime  he  took  her  down  to  the  table  again. 

And  after  tea,  as  the  September  night  was  cool  on  the 
water,  they  sat  down  at  one  of  the  cabin  tables  and  played 
checkers  together  until  it  was  time  to  retire. 

And  thus  all  day  long  and  all  the  evening  through,  in- 
sight of  all  the  people,  Alden  Lytton  unconsciously  con- 
ducted himself,  as  Mary  Grey  intended  that  he  should,  like 
her  betrothed  lover. 


164  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

In  due  time  they  reached  Washington,  and  crossed  the 
length  of  the  city  to  take  the  train  for  Philadelphia,  where 
they  arrived  late  on  Thursday  night. 

"Have  you  any  preference  for  one  hotel  over  another?" 
inquired  Alden,  as  they  stood  amid  the  horrible  din  of 
contesting  hackmen,  porters,  'bus-drivers,  et  cetera. 

"None  whatever,"  she  answered. 

"Then  we'll  go  to  the  Blank  House,  if  you  have  no  ob- 
jection." 

"None.    We  will  go  there." 

"Here's  your  Blank  House  'bus !"  shouted  a  driver,  above 
all  the  other  shouts. 

"  Oh !  don't  let  us  get  into  that  crowded  stage !  A  car- 
riage, please,"  pleaded  Mary  Grey. 

And  Alden  L}*tton,  believing  her  fastidiousness  and 
timidity  to  be  real  and  not  affected,  and  withal  feeling 
bound  to  be  guided  by  her  wishes,  called  a  carriage  and 
put  her  into  it. 

As  they  were  rolling  rapidly  on  their  way  to  the  Blank 
House,  Mary  Grey  shivered  and  suddenly  said : 

"  Oh !  please,  when  we  get  to  that  great,  rambling  hotel, 
do  not  let  them  put  me  away  off  in  a  room  in  a  remote 
part  of  the  house  by  myself  or  among  total  strangers.  I 
always  feel  so  frightened  in  a  great  hotel.  And  I  am  al- 
ways sure  to  lose  myself,  or  do  something  ridiculous,  or 
get  into  trouble,  whenever  I  attempt  to  find  my  way 
through  the  labyrinth  of  halls  and  passages  between  the 
bedrooms  and  parlors.    Will  you  please  take  care  of  me  ?" 

"I  will  take  the  same  care  of  you  that  I  would  take  of 
my  sister  Laura.  I  will  see  that  you  have  a  room  adjoin- 
ing my  own,"  answered  Alden  Lytton,  unsuspiciously,  and 
smiling  indulgently  at  what  he  thought  her  childish 
cowardice. 

When  their  carriage  reached  the  Blank  House,  he  took 
her  up  to  the  reception-room  and  left  her  there,  while  he 
went  to  the  office  and  engaged  apartments  for  himself  and 
for  her. 

And  then  he  came  for  her,  attended  by  a  porter,  who 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  165 

loaded  himself  with  their  traveling-bags,  umbrellas  and 
so  forth,  and  led  the  way  up  two  pairs  of  stairs  to  a  little 
suite  of  apartments,  consisting  of  two  small  chambers,  with 
a  small  parlor  between  them. 

They  entered  the  parlor  first,  where  communicating  doors 
on  the  right  and  left  led  into  opposite  chambers. 

The  porter  put  do^vn  the  luggage,  received  his  fee,  and 
retired. 

"I  hope  you  will  like  these  rooms,  Mrs.  Grey.  The  two 
chambers  are  exactly  alike;  but  if  you  have  a  preference, 
please  take  it,"  said  Alden,  pleasantly. 

"It  does  not  matter  in  the  least.  I  will  go  in  here/'  an- 
swered Mary  Grey,  opening  the  right-hand  door  and  dis- 
appearing through  it,  with  her  traveling-bag  in  her  hand. 

She  found  every  convenience  for  making  a  clean  toilet 
there.  And  when  she  had  refreshed  herself  with  a  wash, 
and  a  change  of  dress,  she  re-entered  the  little  parlor, 
where  she  found  supper  laid  on  the  table  and  an  attentive 
waiter  at  hand. 

"I  ordered  supper  here  because  I  remembered  your  fas- 
tidiousness, and  thought  you  would  prefer  this  to  the  pub- 
lic dining-room,"  explained  Alden. 

"Thanks !  Oh,  I  do  like  it  ever  so  much  better!  I  can- 
not endure  the  public  rooms,"  said  Mary  Grey,  as  she  took 
the  seat  the  obsequious  waiter  placed  for  her. 

"Anything  more,  if  you  please,  sir?"  inquired  the  man. 

"^-n-no,"  answered  Alden,  hesitatingly;  for,  in  fact,  if 
he  could  have  found  a  fair  excuse,  he  would  have  preferred 
to  have  the  waiter  remain  in  attendance.  The  man  bowed^ 
and  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

THE  SERPENT  AT  WOEK 

Alden  sat  down  at  the  table,  and  began  to  carve  a 
roasted  chicken. 

While  he  was  intent  upon  his  task,  !Mary  Grey  drew 


166  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

from  her  watch  pocket  a  little  folded  paper.  "With  her 
eyes  upon  him,  to  be  sure  that  he  was  not  observing  her, 
■she  deftly  poured  a  white  powder  from  this  paper  into  one 
of  the  coffee-cups,  and  then  quickly  returned  the  empty 
paper  to  her  watch  pocket. 

Meanwhile,  he  had  taken  off  the  liver  wing  from  the 
roasted  chicken,  and  placed  it  on  a  warm  plate,  which  he 
passed  to  her. 

"Will  you  have  a  cup  of  coffee  now,  or  afterward?"  she 
inquired,  as  she  took  the  offered  plate. 

"jSTow,  please.  Coffee  is  the  most  refreshing  of  all  bev- 
erages after  a  fatiguing  journey,"  he  added,  as  he  received 
the  cup  from  her  hand. 

It  was  a  very  nice  supper,  yet  neither  of  them  seemed 
inclined  to  eat. 

Mary  Grey  trifled  with  her  chicken  wing,  tasted  her  milk 
toast,  and  sipped  a  little  coffee.  She  looked  pale,  fright- 
ened and  self-concentrated. 

x\lden  Lytton  drank  his  coffee,  remarking,  with  a  smile, 
tliat  it  was  very,  very  strong,  in  fact,  quite  bitter  in  its 
strength. 

And  when  he  had  finished  it,  he  pushed  the  cup  away, 
saying  that  it  had  quite  satisfied  him,  and  deprived  him 
of  the  inclination  to  take  anything  else. 

As  he  said  this,  he  looked  at  his  companion,  and  noticed 
for  the  first  time  the  ghastliness  of  her  countenance. 

"Mrs.  Gre}^  are  you  ill?"  he  inquired,  in  some  alarm. 

'^ISTo;  only  fatigued  from  that  railway  journey.  The 
train  always  shakes  me  into  a  jelly,"  she  answered,  shiver- 
ing. 

"How  very  delicate  you  are,  poor  child!  It  is  a  great 
pity  you  should  ever  be  called  to  bear  any  of  the  rough- 
ness of  life.  And  when  my  dear  Emma  and  I  have  a 
hom.e  together,  we  must  take  care  to  shield  you  from  all 
that,"  he  said. 

And  then  he  sank  into  a  sudden  silence,  while  she 
watclied  him  closely. 

"Will  you  not  take  anything?"  she  inquired. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  16T 

"Xo,  thank  you.  That  coffee  was  no  doubt  ven-  fine^ 
but  it  was  a  bitter  draught,  and  it  has  taken  away  my  ap- 
petite for  an}i:hing  else,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile  and 
a  half-suppressed  yawn. 

"Are  you  not  well?"  she  next  inquired. 

"Oh,  yes;  quite  well;  never  better  in  my  life,"  he  an- 
swered, putting  his  hands  on  his  lips  to  conceal  an  irre- 
pressible yawn. 

"But  you  also  seem  very  tired." 

"No,  only  deliciously  sleepy,  as  if  I  would  like  to  go  to 
sleep  and  never  wake  up  again,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh  and 
a  smothered  gape. 

"Then  do  not  stand  on  ceremony  with  an  old  friend  like- 
me.    Bid  me  good-night  and  go  at  once,"  she  said. 

"And  you?"  he  inquired. 

"I  am  too  tired  to  go  to  sleep  yet.  I  shall  sit  in  that 
rocking-chair  and  rock  gently.  That  motion  will  soothe 
and  rest  me  better  than  anything  else,  and  after  an  hour  I 
shall  be  able  to  go  to  bed  and  go  to  sleep." 

As  Mary  Grey  spoke,  Alden  Lytton  staggered  to  his  feet 
and  tottered  toward  her,  held  out  his  hand,  and  faltered 
drowsily : 

"I  am  forced  to  take  your  advice.  I  must  retire  at  once, 
or  I  shall  not  be  able  to  reach  my  room.  I  never  felt  so 
overpowered  by  sleep  in  all  my  life  before.  Good-night, 
my  dear  Mrs.  Grey.  I  hope  that  you  will  sleep  as  well  as 
I  am  sure  that  I  shall.    Good-night." 

He  pressed  her  hand,  and  then,  groping  like  a  blind 
man,  he  passed  into  his  own  room  and  shut  the  door  be- 
hind him. 

Mary  Grey  gazed  breathlessly  at  the  closed  door  for  a 
while,  murmuring  to  herself : 

"I  doubt  if  that  fellow  will  be  able  to  divest  himself  of 
his  outer  garments  before  he  falls  down  headlong  in  a 
dead  stupor.  I  liave  him  in  my  power  now !  I  have  him 
in  my  power  now !  At  last !  At  last !  Oh,  yes !  Oh, 
3^es,  Miss  Cavendish,  you  will  marry  him,  will  you  not? 
And  you,  Stephen  Lyle,  how  proud  you  v.ill  be  to  have  iiis 


168  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

sister  for  your  wife,  and  himself  for  a  brother-in-law! 
But  I  must  cover  up  my  tracks,"  she  added,  suddenly,  as 
she  went  around  to  his  vacated  place  at  the  table,  and  took 
liis  empty  cup  and  rinsed  it  out  carefully  several  times, 
throwing  the  water  into  the  empty  grate,  where  it  soon 
dried  up.  Then  she  poured  some  of  the  coffee  grounds  from 
her  own  cup  into  the  rinsed  cup  to  conceal  the  rinsing. 
Finally  she  drew  from  her  watch  pocket  the  little  white 
paper  from  which  she  had  poured  the  powder  into  the 
coffee  cup,  and  she  held  it  in  the  blaze  of  the  gaslight  until 
it  was  burned  to  ashes. 

Then  she  sat  down  in  the  rocking-chair,  and  smiled  as 
she  rested. 

At  intervals  she  bent  her  head  toward  the  door  leading 
into  Alden  Lytton's  room  and  listened;  but  she  heard  no 
sound  of  life  in  there. 

She  sat  on  in  the  rocker  until  the  striking  of  a  large 
clock  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood  aroused  her. 

It  was  twelve  o'clock. 

Midnight ! 

She  arose  and  cautiously  opened  the  door  leading  into 
Alden  Lytton's  room. 

She  looked  in  like  a  tliief. 

The  gas  was  turned  down  very  low ;  but  by  its  dim  light 
she  saw  him  sleeping  a  heavy,  trancelike  sleep. 

She  went  into  the  room,  and  to  the  door  leading  into  the 
passage  and  bolted  it. 

Then  she  closed  every  window-shutter  and  drew  down 
every  window-shade,  and  let  down  the  heavy  moreen  cur- 
tains, making  all  dark. 

Then  she  returned  to  the  parlor,  closed  the  intervening 
door,  and  threw  herself  into  the  rocking-chair  and  closed 
her  eyes  in  the  vain  endeavor  to  rest  and  sleep. 

But  sleep  and  rest  were  far  from  her  that  night. 

The  clock  struck  one. 

All  sounds,  even  about  that  busy  hotel,  gradually  ceased. 
The  house  wa?  pfill.  awfully  still,  yet  she  could  not  sleep. 

The  clock  struck  two. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  169 

She  started  up  with  a  shiver,  exclaiming : 

"I  cannot  sleep;  but  I  can  go  to  bed  and  lie  there." 

And  she  went  into  her  own  room  and  went  to  bed,  but 
not  to  rest. 

She  heard  the  clock  strike  in  succession  every  hour  of 
the  night,  until  it  finally  struck  four. 

Then,  when  the  people  of  the  house  were  beginning  to 
stir,  she,  overcome  with  fatigue  and  watching,  at  length 
fell  asleep. 

As  usual  in  such  cases  of  long  night  watching  and  early 
morning  sleep,  she  slept  long  into  the  forenoon. 

When  she  awoke  and  looked  at  her  watch  she  found  it 
was  nine  o'clock. 

She  arose  in  haste  and  dressed  herself. 

This  was  the  morning  upon  which  she  was  to  meet  her 
unconscious  confederate  in  crime.  Craven  Kyte. 

As  soon  as  she  was  dressed  she  went  into  the  parlor, 
where,  it  appeared,  the  waiter  with  his  pass  key  had  al- 
ready been  before  her,  for  the  remains  of  the  last  night's 
supper  had  been  carried  away  and  the  room  had  been  re- 
stored to  order. 

She  then  listened  at  Alden  Lytton's  door. 

All  was  dark  as  a  vault  and  still  as  death  there. 

She  opened  the  door  cautiously  and  went  in. 

He  was  still  sleeping  a  deathlike  sleep  in  the  pitch-dark 
room.  She  went  and  looked  to  the  door  leading  into  the 
passage,  and  found  it  still  bolted. 

Then  she  came  out  of  the  room,  locked  the  door  be- 
tween it  and  the  parlor,  and  so  isolated  the  sleeper  from 
all  the  house. 

Lastly  she  put  on  her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  walked  out. 
She  walked  down  the  street  for  several  blocks,  and  then 
hailed  an  empty  cab  that  was  passing,  and  engaged  it  to 
take  her  to  a  certain  picture  shop  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
city. 

It  was  at  this  shop  that  she  had  engaged  to  meet  Craven 
Kyte  that  morning  at  ten  o'clock. 

A  half-hour's  rapid  drive  brought  her  to  the  place. 


170  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

On  arriving,  she  got  out,  paid  and  dismissed  her  cab, 
and  entered  the  shop. 

It  was  not  yet  ten  o'clock,  nor  had  her  intended  tool  and 
victim  yet  made  his  appearance. 

It  was  also  too  early  for  the  usual  customers  of  the  estab- 
lishment. 

But  a  polite  clerk  came  forward  and  placed  a  catalogue 
and  a  small  telescope  in  her  hands,  that  she  might  the  bet- 
ter examine  the  pictures. 

"Thank  you.  I  would  like  to  look  at  a  City  Directory 
first,  if  you  please,"  she  said,  as  she  put  aside  the  cata- 
logue and  the  telescope. 

The  clerk  handed  her  the  required  volume. 

She  turned  to  the  church  directory,  and  looked  down  its 
columns  until  she  found  what  she  seemed  to  be  in  search 
of. 

And  then  she  marked  it  with  a  pencil  and  closed  the 
book. 

At  that  moment  Craven  Kyte  entered  the  shop. 

On  catching  sight  of  her  whom  he  loved  and  came  to 
meet,  his  face  lighted  up  with  joy,  and  he  hastened  toward 
her. 

But  she  held  up  a  warning  finger  to  him,  and  in  obedi- 
ence to  its  signal  he  moderated  his  transports  and  came 
to  her  quietly. 

"This  is  no  place  to  make  demonstrations  of  that  sort," 
she  said.  "Here,  take  your  pencil  and  a  bit  of  paper  and 
copy  off  this  address  for  me,"  she  added,  opening  the  di- 
rectory and  pointing  to  the  name  she  had  marked. 

"The  Rev.  Mr.  Borden,  No.  — , Street,"  said  Cra- 
ven K3'te,  reading  the  address  that  he  had  copied. 

"That  will  do;  now  come  along.  We  will  go  straight  to 
that  reverend  gentleman's  house,"  said  Mary  Grey. 

And  they  left  the  shop  together. 

"  Oh,  Mary,  my  love  !  my  love !  How  tantalizing  it  is  to 
me  to  meet  you  here  in  public,  where  I  may  scarcely  take 
your  dear  hand,  when  my  heart  is  nearly  breaking  with 
its  repressed  feelings!"  he  whispered,  in  eager  tones. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  171 

"You  impatient  boy,  you  are  worse  than  any  spoiled 
child  V^  she  said,  archly. 

"Oh,  Mary!  my  love!  my  lady!  you  will  keep  your 
promise  !    You  will  be  mine  to-day  ?"  he  pleaded. 

"I  will  be  yours  within  two  hours,  upon  one  condition." 

"Xame  it!  name  it!"  he  eagerly  exclaimed. 

"You  must  not  marry  me  under  your  own  name,  but 
under  that  of  Alden  Lytton." 

When  she  had  said  this,  she  stole  a  glance  at  him  to  see 
how  he  took  it,  and  she  was  somewhat  abashed  by  the 
look  of  unuterable  amazement  on  the  honest  face  of  the 
young  man. 

"Come,  what  do  you  say  to  that?"  she  inquired. 

"My  dear  Mary,  what  an  astonishing  proposition!"  he 
exclaimed. 

"But  you  will  agree  to  it?" 

He  was  silent. 

"  You  will  agree  to  this,  because  you  love  me,"  she  added. 

But  he  continued  silent  and  very  sad. 

"You  will  agree  to  this,  for  the  sake  of  making  me  your 
wife  ?"  she  persisted. 

"My  dearest  Mary,  it  is  impossible!"  he  answered,  with 
a  painful  effort. 

"  There !  I  knew  it.  Say  no  more.  You  professed  great 
love  for  me  once.  You  were  willing  to  do,  dare,  or  die  for 
me,  if  necessary.  You  wished  me  to  put  you  to  the  test, 
to  try  you,  as  you  called  it.  Yet  the  very  first  time  I  have 
tested  your  sincerity,  you  have  failed  me,  as  I  foresaw  that 
you  would.  Good-by,  Mr.  Craven  Kyte.  We  part  here, 
and  we  part  forever,"  said  Mary  Grey,  with  cold  contempt, 
as  she  turned  away  from  him. 

"Xo,  no,  no!  for  Heaven's  sake,  no!"  cried  the  young 
man,  piteousiy.  "Do  not  leave  me  so  suddenly.  Give  me 
time  to  think.  Oh,  I  cannot,  cannot  part  with  you.  I 
must,  must  have  you  at  any  cost!"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self. 

■  She  stopped,   and  contemplated  him  as  with  scornful 
pity. 


172  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"Come,  come  into  the  square  here  and  sit  down.  Let 
us  talk  this  matter  over.  Pray  do.  Oh,  I  cannot  lose 
you  so!"  he  pleaded,  seizing  her  hand. 

"Well,  I  will  go  in  and  sit  on  one  of  those  benches  for 
a  few  moments,  and  give  you  the  opportunity  of  recover- 
ing your  place  in  my  confidence,"  she  said,  with  a  sort  of 
contemptuous  pity,  as  she  turned  and  entered  the  square. 

He  followed  her  immediately,  and  they  sat  down  to- 
gether. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

A  WICKED  WEDDING 

"Now  TELL  me  what  you  wish  me  to  do,  and  why  you 
wish  me  to  do  it,"  said  the  lover,  submissively. 

"I  have  already  told  you  what  I  wish  you  to  do.  Why  I 
wish  you  to  do  it  must  remain  my  secret  for  the  present. 
You  must  trust  me.  Oh,  Craven !"  she  added,  suddenly 
changing  her  tone  to  one  of  soft,  sorrowful  pleading,  "why 
will  you  not  trust  me,  when  I  am  about  to  trust  you  with 
the  happiness  of  my  whole  future  lifer" 

"I  do  trust  you — I  trust  you,  as  I  love  you,  without 
limit!"  answered  the  poor  fellow,  almost  weeping. 

"Ah!  you  say  you  do,  yet  you  refuse  to  do  as  I  wish 
you,"  sorrowfully  replied  the  siren. 

"I  refuse  no  longer!  I  will  do  anything  in  the  world 
you  wish  me  to  do  with  joy,  if  in  that  way  I  can  have  you 
for  my  own,"  he  declared,  with  tearful  emphasis. 

"I  knew  you  would.  You  are  a  dear,  good,  true  heart, 
and  I  love  you  more  than  life !"  she  said,  giving  his  arm  a 
squeeze.     "Listen,  now." 

He  became  suddenly  all  devoted  attention,  as  she  art- 
fully unfolded  to  him  just  as  much  of  her  nefarious  plan 
as  was  absolutely  necessary  to  secure  his  co-operation  in 
it.  The  whole  of  her  scheme  in  all  its  diabolical  wicked- 
ness she  dared  not  expose  to  his  honest  soul. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  173 

She  told  him  now  that  she  had  set  her  mind  on  a  harm- 
less practical  joke,  to  win  a  wager  with  Emma  Cavendish. 

She  said  that  he  must  go  with  her  to  see  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Borden,  rector  of  St.  —  Church,  and  ask  him  to  perform 
the  marriage  ceremony  between  them.  And  that  he  must 
give  his  own  name  as  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  attorney-at-law, 
Richmond,  Virginia,  and  give  her  name  as  it  was — Mrs. 
Mary  Grey,  of  the  same  city.  And  that  they  must  be  mar- 
ried under  those  names. 

The  young  man  stared  until  his  black  eyes  looked  as  big 
as  old  Booth's  in  the  last  scene  of  Richard. 

"But  why?"  he  inquired. 

"A  practical  joke,  I  tell  you.  Ah,  how  hard  you  are  to 
manage !  Why  can  you  not  trust  me  through  a  little  mys- 
tery like  this — a  little  practical  joke  like  this?" 

"I  do  trust  you;  but  I  am  afraid  that  it  might  seem 
like  a  practical  forgery  to  be  married  under  another  per- 
son's name,"  he  replied. 

"Xonsense!  Do  you  think  that  I  could  be  such  an  idiot 
as  to  implicate  you  in  any  act  that  might  be  construed 
into  forgery,  practical  or  otherwise?"  she  inquired,  with  a 
light  laugh. 

"Oh,  no,  certainly  you  are  not  the  lady  to  do  that,"  he 
admitted. 

"Well,  then,  what  next?  You  look  as  solemn  as  a  judge 
or  an  owl." 

"I  am  afraid,  also,  that  if  I  should  be  married  under 
any  other  name  than  my  own,  our  marriage  itself  might 
turn  out  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  practical  joke  instead 
of  a  legal  union." 

"Mr.  Kyte !"  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  with  her  eyes  flash- 
ing fire.  "You  insult  me!  Am  I  the  sort  of  woman  that 
would  compromise  my  good  name  in  a  marriage  of  doubt- 
ful legality?" 

"Oh,  no,  certainly  you  would  not.  Nor  did  I  mean  that. 
I  earnestly  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Craven,  penitently. 

"You  are  a  silly  gander,  and  a  dear,  darling  duck  of  a 
boy !    And  I  love  you !    But  you  must  understand  that  I 


174  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

know  what  I  am  about.  And  5'ou  must  trust  me;  you 
must  trust  me;  and,  once  for  all,  you  must  trust  me,"  she 
said,  archly,  giving  his  arm  another  squeeze. 

"I  do;  I  do.  Come,  shall  we  be  going?  I  am  on  the 
rack  till  our  wedding  is  over." 

"Yes,  but  we  must  take  a  cab.  The  distance  is  a  long 
one." 

"There  is  a  cab  stand  a  couple  of  blocks  from  here.  I 
noticed  it  as  I  came  along.  We  will  take  one  there,  if  you 
please." 

She  assented,  and  they  walked  on  to  the  stand  and  en- 
gaged a  cab. 

When  they  were  seated  in  it  Craven  Kyte  ordered  the 
cabman  to  drive  to  the  rectory  of  St.  Church. 

Half  an  hour's  driving  brought  them  to  their  destina- 
tion. 

WHien  the  cab  drew  up  to  the  door  of  the  house.  Craven 
was  about  to  alight,  wlien  Mary  Grey  stopped  him. 

"Wait,"  she  said.  And,  taking  from  her  card-case  a 
pencil  and  a  blank  card,  she  wrote  upon  it  the  name: 

"Mr.  Alden  Lytton." 

"Send  that  in,"  she  said,  handing  the  card  to  the  be- 
wildered young  man. 

Craven  Kyte  took  it,  looked  at  it  attentively,  and  then 
exclaimed : 

"Why,  that  is  exactly  like  Mr.  Lytton's  own  handwrit- 
ing. If  I  had  not  seen  you  write  it,  I  should  have  taken  it 
to  be  his  autograph." 

"Should  you?  So  much  the  better.  But  never  mind 
that,  now.    Go  and  do  as  I  told  you." 

He  alighted  immediately  and  went  up  to  the  door  of  the 
house.  He  rang  the  bell,  and  sent  in  the  card  by  the 
servant  who  answered  it. 

After  the  lapse  of  a  few  moments,  the  servant  came  back 
with  a  very  favorable  message. 

Craven  Kyte  returned  to  the  cab,  and  whispered : 

"Mr.  Borden  is  at  home  and  will  see  us.    Come." 

And  he  assisted  her  to  alight. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  175 

And  they  went  into  the  rectory,  and  were  shown  by  the 
servant  into  the  study  of  the  rector. 

Mary  Grey  courtesied  to  the  gray-haired,  dignified 
clergyman,  who  arose  to  receive  her;  but  she  kept  her  veil 
down,  as  she  took  her  seat  in  the  chair  he  placed  for  her. 

Craven  Kyte  then  drew  the  reverend  gentleman  aside, 
and  spoke  to  him  in  a  low  voice. 

Mr.  Borden  nodded  and  nodded  as  the  speaker  pro- 
ceeded. 

Wlien  he  had  finished  speaking,  the  rector  inquired : 

"Both  of  legal  age ?'V 

"Both  of  more  than  legal  age,  and  both  quite  indepen- 
dent of  others,"  answered  Craven  Kyte. 

"I  merely  asked  the  question,  because  in  cases  of  this 
kind  I  prefer  that  the  parties  should  be  of  legal  age,  though 
they  were  minors,  I  should  feel  it  to  be  my  duty  to  marry 
them  all  the  same,  because,  I  think,  when  a  youth  and 
maiden  run  away  with  each  other  the  best  thing  a  Chris- 
tian minister  can  do  for  them  is  to  tie  them  together  for 
life." 

"I  am  a  bachelor  of  twenty-two  years  of  age,  and  my 
chosen  wife  is  a  widow  of  twenty-one.  We  take  this  sim- 
ple method  of  getting  married  for  economy  and  conven- 
ience, and  for  no  other  reason;  for  there  is  no  one  in  the 
world  who  has  either  the  power  or  the  will  to  prevent  us," 
said  Craven  Kyte. 

"  Very  well,  Mr.  Lytton ;  I  am  ready  to  wait  on  you.  I 
prefer,  however,  to  solemnize  marriage  in  the  church,  when 
possible.  There  must  be  witnesses,  also.  And  if  you  have 
none  at  hand,  the  sexton  and  some  members  of  his  family 
can  serve." 

Craven  Kyte  winced  at  the  prospect  of  all  these  for- 
malities. 

''I  thought  that  in  the  Quaker  City  marriage  was  a  mat- 
ter of  less  form,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  among  the  Quakers;  but  even  they  must  have  wit- 
nesses. If  you  and  the  lady  will  go  into  the  church,  I  will 
join  you  there  in  a  few  minutes.    You  will  find  the  doors 


176  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

open  and  the  sexton  in  the  buihlinir.  preparing  for  the 
usual  Friday  afternoon  service,"  said  the  rector. 

And  Craven  Kyte  again  offered  his  arm  to  his  com- 
panion, and  led  her  out  of  the  rectory  and  into  the  church. 

It  was  evident  from  all  signs  that  the  interior  had  just 
been  swept  out. 

And  an  old  man  and  a  young  woman,  whom  Craven  Kyte 
and  his  companion  rightly  guessed  to  be  the  sexton  and 
the  sexton's  daughter,  were  busily  engaged  in  dusting  the 
pews. 

Craven  Kyte  and  Mary  Grey  sat  down  upon  a  front  seat 
before  the  altar  to  wait  until  the  rector  should  make  his 
appearance. 

Mr.  Borden  did  not  keep  them  long  in  suspense.  He 
soon  entered,  dressed  in  hie  surplice,  and  took  his  place 
within  the  chancel. 

The  candidates  for  matrimony  advanced  and  stood  be- 
fore him. 

He  beckoned  the  sexton  and  the  sexton's  daughter  to 
draw  near  and  stand  as  witnesses. 

And  they  came  up,  dusting  brushe^y^in  hand,  and  stood 
staring  while  the  ceremony  was  performed. 

After  the  preliminary  exhortation  and  prayers,  the  im- 
portant questions  were  put : 

"Will  you,  Alden,  take  Mary  to  be  your  wedded  wife, 
to  live  together  after  God's  ordinance  in  the  holy  estate 
of  matrimony  ?"  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

To  which  Craven  Kvte,  turning  pale  at  his  unwilling 
duplicity  in  answering  to  a  false  name,  replied : 

''I  will." 

"Will  you,  Mary,  take  Alden  to  be  your  wedded  hus- 
band?" and  80  forth,  and  so  forth. 

To  which  Mary  Grey  answered,  firmly: 

"I  will." 

And  the  ring  was  placed  upon  her  finger.  And  the  mar- 
riage vows  were  solemnly  repeated,  the  last  prayer  said, 
and  the  benediction  pronounced. 

It  was  all  over. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  177 

"  'Those  whom  God  hath  joined  together  let  no  man  put 
asunder.'  " 

The  newly  married  pair  were  about  to  turn  from  the 
altar,  when  the  rector  said : 

"Come  with  me  into  the  vestry  for  a  moment." 

And  they  followed  him  into  the  vestry,  attended  by  the 
two  witnesses. 

The  rector  made  an  entry  into  a  large  book,  and  then 
called  upon  the  bridegroom  and  the  bride  to  sign  their 
names. 

Again  Craven  Kyte  turned  pale  as  death  as  he  regis- 
tered the  false  name  under  which  he  had  been  married. 

But  his  companion  wrote  her  name  in  firm  and  steady 
characters. 

Then  the  sexton  and  his  daughter  signed  as  witnesses. 

The  rector  filled  out  a  blank  form,  which  he  also  signed, 
and  caused  to  be  signed  by  the  two  witnesses. 

This  he  put  into  an  envelope  and  handed  to  the  bride. 

Then  he  bowed  to  both,  as  a  signal  that  all  the  forms 
had  been  complied  with  and  they  were  at  liberty  to  depart. 

"What  was  that  paper  the  minister  gave  you,  my  dear- 
est love?"  whispered  Craven,  as  they  left  the  church. 

"It  was  the  certificate  of  marriage  which  the  minister 
usually,  and  very  properly,  gives  to  the  newly  married 
woman,"  answered  the  bride. 

"Oh,  quite  right,  my  angel,"  replied  the  doomed  bride- 
groom, as  he  tenderly  put  her  into  the  cab  and  took  his 
seat  beside  her. 

And  then  he  clasped  her  to  his  honest  heart  in  an  ecstasy 
of  love,  and  went  off  into  the  most  extravagant  rhapsodies 
about  his  happiness. 


178  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

AFTER  THE  WICKED  WEDDING 

"Did  you  tell  the  coachman  where  to  drive?"  inquired 
the  bride,  as  the  carriage  rolled  rapidly  through  one  of  the 
principal  streets  of  the  city. 

"Yes,  dearest,"  answered  the  infatuated  bridegroom. 
*^I  told  him  to  drive  to  the  Asterick,  where  I  am  stopping, 
and  where  I  have  had  elegant  rooms  prepared  for  your  re- 
ception. Do  you  think  I  could  have  forgotten  anything  in 
which  your  comfort  was  concerned  ?" 

"No,  I  am  sure  you  could  not;  but "    She  hesitated 

a  moment,  and  then  added,  "I  wanted  to  go  somewhere 
else." 

"  My  love,  my  love,  you  shall  go  where  you  please.  After 
we  have  got  to  our  rooms  at  the  Asterick,  and  refreshed 
and  rested  ourselves,  we  will  consult  about  where  to  go, 
and  spend  a  pleasant  fortnight  together,"  he  answered, 
affectionately. 

"Yes ;  but  I  don't  want  to  go  to  the  Asterick  just  yet." 

"Where,  then?    I  will  go  anywhere  you  wish." 

"You  know  I  did  not  come  to  this  city  alone." 

"Didn't  you,  dear?    I  thought  you  did." 

"No;  I  came  with  a  party  of  lady  friends.  And  I  left 
them  all  abruptly  this  morning  to  meet  you,  without  tell- 
ing them  where  I  was  going,  or  when  I  should  be  back. 
I  have  now  been  gone  two  hours.  They  will  be  uneasy 
about  me  by  this  time.  I  must  go  back  there  and  relieve 
their  anxiety  and  also  get  my  traveling-bag." 

"Very  well,  my  darling,  we  will  drive  there  immedi- 
ately." 

"No,  no ;  you  must  not  go  there.  I  have  not  told  them 
anything  about  my  intended  marriage,  so  I  don't  want 
them  to  know  an}i;hing  about  it,  lest  they  should  be  of- 
fended. There  is  a  reading-room  at  the  corner  of  the 
street  near  the  hotel.     Stop  there,  and  I  will  get  out  and 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  179 

walk  to  the  house  and  take  leave  of  my  friends,  and  then 
return  to  the  reading-room  and  join  you.  In  the  mean- 
time you  can  send  the  carriage  away,  and  while  waiting 
for  me  you  can  amuse  yourself  looking  over  the  books." 

"But  I  hate  to  lose  you  even  for  an  hour." 

"Ah,  be  reasonable,  and  remember  that  it  will  be  but 
for  an  hour  or  less  time.  And  when  we  meet  again  it  will 
be  to  part  no  more  forever — or  until  Death  himself  shall 
part  us.'' 

"I  must  submit,  I  suppose,''  said  Craven,  with  a  sigh. 

"  Submit  ?  Oh,  you  crazy  boy !  You  talk  as  if  you  were 
making  some  painful  sacrifice!"  she  answered,  with  a  light 
laugh. 

"It  is  painful  to  let  you  leave  me  even  for  an  hour." 

"Bah!  You'll  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  me  some  of  these 
days." 

"Never!" 

"Bah!  I  say  again.  Come,  here  we  are  at  the  reading- 
room.    Stop  the  carriage." 

He  did  so. 

"Let  me  out  here,  and  I  will  walk  on,"  she  said. 

"Had  you  not  better  let  me  get  out  here,  and  you  keep 
your  own  seat  and  drive  on?"  he  inquired. 

"No.  I  don't  want  the  carriage  to  take  me  to  the  hotel. 
The  distance  is  short.  I  prefer  walking.  You  had  better 
dismiss  it,  and  go  into  the  reading-room  and  amuse  your- 
self while  waiting  for  me,"  she  said. 

He  acquiesced,  and  she  got  out  and  walked  rapidly  on 
toward  the  Blank  House. 

With  her  thick  veil  let  down,  she  slipped  in  through 
the  ladies'  entrance  with  some  visitors  that  just  happened 
to  be  going  there. 

She  hurried  upstairs  to  her  own  rooms,  and  unlocked 
the  door  of  the  private  parlor. 

All  within  the  place  was  just  as  she  had  left  it  two  hours 
before. 

She  opened  the  window  shutters  to  let  in  the  daylight. 


180  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

And  then  she  went  and  listened  at  the  door  communicat- 
ing with  Alden  Lytton's  room. 

At  first  all  was  still ;  but  presently  she  heard  a  step  about 
the  room,  and  soon  after  other  motions  that  proved  the 
inmate  to  be  busy  at  his  toilet. 

"He  is  up  and  dressing  himself.  I  have  not  returned 
one  minute  too  soon,"  she  said,  as  she  seated  herself  in  an 
easy-chair  near  the  window. 

The  next  moment  the  door  opened,  and  Alden  Lytton 
entered,  smiling. 

"I  do  not  know  how  to  apologize  for  my  stupid  neglect. 
But  I  hope  you  will  believe  me  when  I  assure  you  it  was 
inadvertent.  The  truth  is,  I  overslept  myself.  I  can't 
think  what  made  me  do  it,"  he  said,  actually  blushing  like 
a  boy  at  the  thought  of  his  involuntary  sluggishness. 

"You  were  very  much  fatigued  last  night.  I  am  very 
glad  you  had  a  refreshing  sleep.  I  hope  you  feel  the  better 
for  it,"  she  answered,  with  her  sweet  smile. 

"Well,  no;  not  much  better.  You  know  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  taking  too  much  sleep.  I  feel  quite  as  if  I  had 
taken  twice  too  much ;  dull  and  heavy,  with  a  stupid  head- 
ache. I  never  was  inebriated  in  my  life,  but  I  should 
think  a  man  that  had  been  so  overnight  would  feel  just 
as  I  do  this  morning." 

"  Ah,  I  am  sorry !  But  the  fresh  air  will  do  you  good, 
no  doubt." 

"No  doubt.  And  really  it  is  not  worth  speaking  of.  I 
see  you  have  your  hat  on.  You  have  been  taking  a  walk 
this  fine  morning,  while  I  lay  like  a  sluggard,  sleeping 
myself  into  a  headache?" 

"No,  I  have  not  been  out.  I  put  my  hat  on  merely  to 
be  ready  to  start  the  moment  we  had  breakfasted.  For 
I  must  go  and  see  the  principal  of  the  ladies'  school  this 
morning." 

"Why,  I  hope  you  have  not  waited  breakfast  for  me  all 
this  time?"  exclaimed  Alden,  in  a  tone  of  regret. 

"I  have  not  waited  very  long.  And  if  I  must  confeee 
the  fault,  I  have  not  been  up  yery  long  myself." 


VICTOR'S  TRimiPH  18t 

"Ah!"  laughed  Alden  Lytton;  "so  somebody  else  over- 
slept herself!" 

"Yes !  '  'tis  true,  'tis  pity,  and  pity  'tis  'tis  true !'  " 

"You  must  be  hungry,  however.  I  will  ring  and  order 
breakfast  directly." 

"No,  please  don't.  It  will  take  too  much  time.  For 
once  we  will  go  down  in  the  dining-room  and  get  our 
breakfast," 

"As  you  please,"  said  Alden  Lytton,  as  he  arose  to  at- 
tend her  downstairs. 

The  guests  had  nearly  all  left  the  dining-room,  so  there 
were  waiters  enough  at  leisure  to  attend  to  these  late  ar- 
rivals ;  and  it  followed,  of  course,  that  they  had  not  long 
to  wait  for  their  coffee  and  rolls. 

They  did  not  tarry  over  their  meal.  Both  were  in  a 
hurry. 

"I  should  have  been  at  the  law  publisher's  two  hours 
ago,"  said  Alden. 

"And  I  should  have  been  at  the  ladies'  school  about  the 
same  time,"  added  Mary. 

"I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  sleeping  so  ridiculously 
long  and  detaining  you,"  said  Alden. 

"Say  no  more  about  it.  We  shall  only  have  to  hurry 
over  our  breakfast  to  make  up  for  lost  time,"  answered 
the  traitress. 

And  they  soon  finished,  and  arose  from  the  table. 

"Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  order  a  carriage  for  me, 
while  I  run  upstairs  and  get  my  traveling  bag?"  she  in- 
quired. 

"Certainly,"  he  answered,  as  he  gave  her  his  arm  and 
led  her  to  the  foot  of  the  grand  staircase. 

And  as  she  ran  up,  he  turned  and  sent  a  hall  porter 
for  the  carriage. 

And  then  he  waited  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  for  her 
return. 

The  carriage  was  announced,  and  she  reappeared  about 
the  same  time. 


182  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

She  carried  in  her  hand  a  leather  bag  and  a  small  silk 
umbrella,  both  of  which  she  handed  to  a  porter. 

"This  looks  like  a  departure,"  said  Alden  Lytton,  as  he 
gave  her  his  arm  to  lead  her  to  the  carriage. 

"It  may  be  a  departure,"  she  answered,  "and  I  must 
take  this,  perhaps  last,  opportunity  of  thanking  you  for  all 
your  brotherly  kindness  to  me.  If  I  should  not  return  by 
six  o'clock  this  evening,  please  to  give  up  my  room." 

"I  will  do  so,"  said  Alden  Lytton.  "And  in  that  case  I 
also  shall  give  up  my  room,  for  I  think  I  shall  be  able 
to  get  through  with  my  business  to-day.  If  you  should 
be  returning  to  Virginia,  I  should  be  pleased  to  escort  you 
back." 

"Thanks.  But  I  rather  think  that  I  shall  try  the  school. 
That  will  do.  I  am  very  comfortable.  Thanks,  very 
much,"  she  added,  as  she  settled  herself  in  the  seat  where 
he  had  placed  her. 

"Where  shall  I  toll  the  coachman  to  drive?"  inquired 
Aldon. 

"Tell  him  to  call  at  the  reading-room,  at  the  corner  of 
the  next  street.  I  wish  to  look  at  the  directory  there, 
before  going  further." 

This  order  was  given  to  the  coachman,  who  immediately 
started  his  horses. 

In  a  very  few  minutes  the  carriage  drew  up  before  the 
reading-room  door. 

Mary  Grey,  as  I  still  prefer  to  call  her,  got  out  and  ran 
into  the  room. 

Craven  Kyte  was  there,  trying  to  interest  himself  in  a 
morning  paper.  As  soon  as  he  saw  her  he  dropped  the 
paper  and  started  to  meet  her. 

"It  seems  to  me  you  have  been  gone  four  hours  instead 
of  one,"  he  said. 

"I  have  been  gone  just  an  hour  and  seven  minutes,  you 
very  bad  boy,"  she  answered,  playfully.  "Now,  then,  I 
am  at  your  lordship's  service." 

"Oh,  my  beloved,  do  not  speak  so  to  me,  even  in  sport; 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  18S 

for  you  are  my  queen,  and  I  am  your  subject.    Shall  we 
go  now?" 

"Yes,  I  have  a  carriage  at  the  door  with  my  little  lug- 
gage in  it." 

"Come,  then,  love." 

They  went  out  together  and  entered  the  carriage. 
"Drive  to  the  Asterick  Hotel,"  said  Craven  Kyte  to  the 
coachman. 

"And  tell  him  to  drive  slowly,  for  I  wish  to  talk  to  you 
as  we  go  along,"  she  whispered. 

"Drive  slowly,"  said  Mr.  K}i;e,  giving  the  order. 
"Now,  Craven,  dear,"  she  said,  as  they  went  along,  "I 
wish  you  to  understand  that  I  don't  want  to  stop  at  the 
Asterick  longer  than  it  will  take  you  to  pay  your  bill  and 
pack  your  portmanteau." 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go,  then,  my  darling?  I  am 
ready  to  go  anywhere  with  you,"  he  replied. 

"Then  I  have  a  fancy  for  spending  a  few  days  at  Havre- 
de-Grace.  It  is  a  very  pretty  place.  We  can  take  the  next 
train  and  get  there  in  two  or  three  hours." 

"Very  well,  my  angel,  I  will  make  every  effort  to  catch 
that  train." 

"Now,  then,  tell  the  coachman  to  drive  fast." 
Again  Craven  Kyte  conveyed  her  orders  to  the  man  on 
the  box,  who  touched  up  his  horses. 

And  they  were  whirled  rapidly  on  toward  the  Asterick 
Hotel,  where  they  soon  arrived. 

"Hadn't  I  better  tell  the  carriage  to  wait?"  inquired 
Craven  Kyte. 

"No,  send  it  away.  We  can  pick  up  another  one  in  a 
moment,"  answered  his  companion. 

Craven  Kyte  paid  and  discharged  the  carriage,  and  they 
went  into  the  house. 

He  took  his  companion  up  into  the  private  parlor  he 
had  engaged  for  her,  and  he  pressed  her  to  partake  of  some 
refreshments  while  he  packed  his  portmanteau  and  paid 
his  bill. 


184  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

But  she  declined  the  refreshments,  and  said  she  would 
wait,  keeping  herself  closely  veiled  all  the  time. 

He  hurried  through  his  business  as  fast  as  he  could,  and 
soon  rejoined  her. 

He  took  her  down  to  the  cab  he  had  engaged,  and  which 
was  alread}^  packed  with  their  luggage. 

A  half-hour's  rapid  drive  took  them  to  the  railway  sta- 
tion, which  they  reached  only  in  time  to  buy  their  tickets, 
check  their  baggage  and  take  their  seats  before  the  train 
started. 

It  was  the  express.  And  they  were  soon  whirled  through 
the  country  to  the  town  where  the  bride  chose  to  spend 
her  honeymoon. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

HER  CRIME 

They  took  rooms  in  a  pleasant  hotel  in  the  town,  and 
after  an  early  tea  they  strolled  down  to  the  water  side  to 
look  at  the  small  shipping. 

It  was  a  delicious  evening  in  September.  The  sun  had 
just  set,  and  the  whole  expanse  of  water  was  aflame  with 
the  afterglow. 

A  refreshing  breeze  had  sprung  up,  and  the  river  was 
alive  with  pleasure  boats  of  every  description,  from  the 
sail  to  the  rowboat. 

And  there  were  more  boats  for  hire,  at  the  service  of 
any  who  might  wish  to  amuse  themselves  upon  the  water. 

"Take  a  boat,  Craven,  and  let  us  go  out  for  a  row.  The 
evening  is  so  delightful,  the  sky  and  the  water  so  beautiful," 
said  the  bride,  coaxingly. 

"  I  would  like  to  do  so,  my  angel ;  but,  to  tell  the  truth, 
I  am  a  very  inexperienced  oarsman,  and  I  cannot  swim  at 
all,"  answered  the  poor  fellow,  apologetically. 

"Are  you  afraid,  then,  Craven?"  she  asked,  with  exas- 
^rating  archness. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  185 

"^"0,  love,  not  for  myself,  but  for  you.  If  by  my  awk- 
wardness any  accident  should  happen  to  you,  I  think  I 
should  run  raving  mad,"  he  answered,  earnestly. 

"Oh,  well,  never  mind  me.  There  is  no  cause  of  fear 
whatever,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  can  row  like  a 
squaw.  And  I  can  swim  like  a  duck.  And  I  think  I  could 
do  so  ever  since  I  could  walk!  At  least,  I  certainly  do 
not  remember  the  time  when  I  could  not  swim/'  said  the 
lady,  laughingly. 

"What  a  wonder  you  are!  In  everything!"  exclaimed 
the  lover-bridegroom,  in  a  rapture  of  admiration. 

"No  wonder  at  all.  I  was  brought  up  on  the  waterside, 
and  was  always  a  sort  of  amphibious  little  creature,  as  often 
in  the  water  as  out  of  it.  Come,  now,  will  you  hire  a  boat, 
to  please  me?" 

"Of  course.  I  would  do  anything  in  the  world  to  please 
you,  my  angel !" 

"Then  engage  that  little  pea-green  boat.  It  is  a  nice 
one,"  she  said,  pointing  to  a  frail  skiff  moored  near  them. 

"That,  my  dearest  Mary?  Why,  that  is  a  mere  egg- 
shell !  It  could  not  live  in  rough  water.  And  if  this  gentle 
breeze  should  rise  into  a  wind — — " 

"Are  you  afraid?"  she  inquired,  with  provoking  sar- 
casm. 

"I  say  again,  not  for  myself,  but  for  you." 

"And  I  say  again,  that  there  can  be  no  ground  of  fear 
for  me.  I  say  again,  I  can  row  like  a  squaw  and  swim 
like  a  duck.    There !    Now  will  you  get  the  boat  I  want?" 

"Yes,  my  darling,  I  will.  And  I  will  also  take  the 
precaution  to  hire  the  man  in  charge  of  it  to  help  us  row, 
in  case  of  accidents." 

"No,  no,  no;  I  won't  have  the  man.  He  would  spoil 
all  our  pleasure.  I  want  you  and  myself  to  go  out  alone 
together,  and  have  no  interloper  with  us." 

"But,  my  beloved " 

"I  don^t  believe  you  love  me  at  all,  when  you  want  a 
great  hulking  boatman  to  be  in  the  boat  with  us,  watchijig 
us,"  said  the  bride,  with  pretty  childish  petulance. 


186  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"  Not  love  you !  Oh  heaven  of  heavens !  You  know  how 
I  love  you  ! — how  I  adore  you ! — how  I  worship  you !"  he 
whispered,  earnestly. 

"Will  you  get  the  boat  I  want  before  it  grows  too  dark?" 

"Yes,  yes;  I  will,  my  darling.  I  can  refuse  you  noth- 
ing," said  the  infuriated  bridegroom,  as  he  walked  down  to 
the  waters  edge,  and  forthwith  hired  the  one  she  had  set 
her  heart  on. 

Then  he  came  back  to  take  her  down  to  the  boat. 

It  was  a  mere  shell,  as  he  had  said,  and,  though  the  boat- 
man declared  that  it  could  easily  carry  six  if  required,  it 
did  not  look  as  if  it  would  safely  bear  more  than  two  or 
three  passengers  at  most. 

They  were  soon  floating  out  upon  the  water  and  down 
with  the  tide,  past  the  dingy  colliers  and  the  small  trading 
vessels  that  were  anchored  there,  and  out  among  the  com- 
ing and  going  sloops  and  schooners. 

"Let  us  row  toward  that  beautiful  wooded  shore.  It  is 
so  lovely  over  there,"  said  Mary  Grey,  coaxingly. 

"  'Distance  lends,'  and  so  forth,"  smiled  Craven  Kytc, 
as  he  at  once  headed  for  the  shore. 

But  the  outgoing  tide  had  left  a  muddy  beach  there,  and 
80  tljey  had  to  keep  at  a  respectful  distance  from  it. 

They  rowed  again  toward  the  middle  of  the  river. 

The  afterglow  had  faded  away,  but  the  blue-black  starlit 
sky  was  brilliantly  reflected  in  the  dark  water. 

When  they  had  rowed  an  hour  longer,  back  and  fortli 
from  shore  to  shore,  Craven  Kyte  drew  in  his  oar  and  s«id : 

"It  is  growing  late,  and  very  dark,  love.  Had  we  not 
better  go  in?" 

"Xo,  no,  no,  no!"  answered  the  bride,  with  prettily  as- 
sumed authority. 

"But,  dear  love " 

"The  night  is  beautiful!  I  could  stay  out  here  until 
morning!" 

"But  chills  and  fevers,  these  September  nights,  dar- 
ling?" 

"Fiddle-de-dee!    Are  you  afraid?" 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  187 

"Not  for  myself,  love,  bat  for  you.'' 

"I  never  had  a  chill  in  my  life!  I  am  acclimated  to 
these  waterside  places.  If  you  are  tired  of  rowing  give 
me  the  oars." 

'^Not  for  the  world!  What,  fatigue  your  dear  arms! 
I  would  sooner  mine  dropped  from  my  shoulders  with 
weariness !" 

And  he  took  up  both  oars  again,  and  plied  them  ac- 
tively, although  his  unaccustomed  muscles  were  aching 
from  the  long-continued  exercise. 

"Turn  down  the  stream  then,  and  row  with  the  tide.  It 
will  be  so  much  lighter  work  than  rowing  back  and  forth 
across  the  river." 

"But  it  will  take  us  so  far  from  the  town." 

"N'ever  mind." 

"And  it  will  make  it  very  difficult,  when  we  turn  back, 
to  row  against  wind  and  tide." 

"Bah  !  we  will  not  stay  out  long.  We  will  only  go  around 
that  point  that  I  see  before  us.  What  a  fascination  there 
is  in  turning  a  point !  We  always  want  to  see  what  is  on 
the  other  side,"  said  Mary  Grey,  lightly. 

Meantime  Craven  Kyte  had  turned  the  boat,  and  they 
were  floating  down  stream  very  fast. 

They  soon  passed  the  point,  and  saw  on  the  other  side 
a  flat,  sandy  shore,  with  the  woods  at  a  little  distance. 

They  were  still  off  the  point,  when  Mary  Grey  sud- 
denly uttered  an  exclamation  of  dismay. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  hastily  inquired  Craven  Kyte. 

"Oh,  my  hat!  My  hat  has  fallen  off  my  head,  and  is 
in  the  water!  If  you  stoop  over  quick  you  can  reach  it 
before  it  floats  quite  away !"  she  said,  eagerly. 

Craven  Kyte  immediately  drew  in  his  oars  and  secured 
them,  and  then  bent  over  the  side  of  the  boat  to  reach  the 
hat  that  was  still  floating  within  three  feet  of  his  hands. 
He  bent  very  far  out,  and  endangered  his  balance. 

Mary  Grey  arose  to  her  feet.  Her  eyes  were  glittering 
like  phosphorus  in  the  night,  her  face  pallid  under  the 
starlight. 


188  VICTOR'S  TRITOIPH 

He  bent  lower  down  and  further  out^  trying  to  reacli 
the  hat,  when  suddenly  she  gave  him  a  push,  and  he  fell 
into  the  river,  and  went  down  before  he  could  utter  the 
cry  upon  his  lips. 

The  force  with  which  she  had  pushed  her  victim  into 
the  water  had  given  the  little  boat  an  impetus  that  sent 
it  flying  down  the  stream,  and  rocking  violently  from  side 
to  side. 

It  was  as  much  as  she  could  do  to  keep  her  place  in  it. 
Any  other  than  an  experienced  boat  woman  like  herself 
must  have  been  shaken  out  and  drowned. 

She  heard  her  victim's  agonized  scream  for  help,  as  he 
rose  the  first  time  to  the  surface  of  the  water. 

But  she  gave  it  no  attention. 

For,  even  if  slie  liad  repented,  and  had  wished  to  save 
him,  she  could  not  do  so  now. 

She  could,  with  the  greatest  difficulty,  keep  her  place  in 
the  rocking  boat  until  the  impetus  that  had  started  it  was 
spent. 

Yet  again  that  awful  cry  for  help  pierced  the  night  sky, 
as  the  drowning  man  arose  the  second  time  to  the  surface; 
but  on  this  occasion  the  cry  sounded  farther  off,  and  the 
boat,  though  it  had  ceased  to  rock,  was  flying  rapidly  down 
stream. 

She  took  hold  of  the  rudder  and  tried  to  guide  the  flying 
little  shell. 

Her  situation,  self-sought,  as  it  had  been,  was  one  of 
almost  intolerable  horror. 

The  night  sky  was  above  her,  the  dark  waters  beneath 
her,  and  around  her  at  various  distances,  like  little  dim, 
white  specks,  were  to  be  seen  the  sails  of  the  coming  and 
going  colliers,  and  other  small  trading  craft. 

She  steered  down  the  stream  with  the  tide,  pausing  now 
and  then,  and  listening.  But  she  heard  no  more  that 
agonized  cry  of  the  drowning  man,  though  she  knew  it 
would  ring  in  her  spirit's  ears  forever. 

She  steered  down  stream  until  she  heard  the  sound  of 
oars,  and  of  merry  laughter  and  cheerful  talk,  and  then 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  189 

she  dimly  perceived  tlie  approach  of  a  large  pleasure  boat 
crowded  with  gentlemen  and  ladies. 

Then  she,  kno^ving  it  was  too  late  to  save  her  victim, 
deceitfully  raised  a  shrill  scream,  that  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  people  in  the  large  boat,  which  was  immedi- 
ately rowed  in  the  direction  of  the  cry. 

Soon  the  two  boats  -were  side  by  side. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  a  man's  voice  from  the 
larger  boat. 

"Oh  !  for  Heaven's  sake,  help !  My  companion  has  fallen 
overboard,  and  I  fear  is  drowned !"  cried  Mary  Grey, 
wringing  her  hands  in  well-simulated  grief  and  terror. 

"Where?  Wliere?"  inquired  a  dozen  eager,  interested 
voices,  all  at  once. 

"Just  above  here.  Oh!  look  for  him!  listen  for  him! 
do  try  to  save  him!"  cried  the  h3^pocrite,  seizing  her  own 
hair  as  if  she  would  have  pulled  it  out  by  the  roots,  in  her 
pretended  anguish  of  mind. 

"Where  did  he  fall?  Did  he  not  struggle?"  inquired 
two  or  three  voices,  as  the  oarsmen  rowed  their  boat  around 
and  around  in  a  circle,  and  peered  over  the  surface  of  the 
water  for  some  sign  of  the  lost  man. 

"Oh,  he  sank  at  once!  he  sank  at  once!"  cried  Mary 
Grey,  beating  her  breast. 

"But  he  will  come  up  again.  They  always  do,  unless 
they  are  seized  wdth  the  cramp,  and  it  holds  them.  Keep 
a  bright  lookout  there,  boys;  and  if  you  see  so  much  as  a 
ripple  in  the  water  make  for  it  at  once.  We  may  save  the 
poor  fellow  yet,"  said  the  voice  of  a  man  who  seemed  to 
be  in  authority. 

"How  in  the  world  did  he  happen  to  fall  over,  miss  " 
inquired  another  voice. 

"Oh,  my  miserable,  unlucky  hat  blew  off  my  head,  and 
fell  into  the  water.  I  begged  him  not  to  mind  it;  told 
him  I  would  tie  a  pocket  handkerchief  over  my  head,  but 
he  wouldn't  listen  to  me.  Oh,  he  wouldn't  listen  to  me! 
And  so,  in  stooping  to  recover  my  wretched  hat,  he  bent 
over  too  far,  lost  his  balance,  and  fell  into  the  water.    And, 


190  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

oh,  he  sank  at  once,  like  lead.  Oh,  do  try  to  find  him! 
Oh,  do  try  to  save  him !  He  might  be  resuscitated,  even 
now,  if  you  could  find  him — might  he  not?"  she  cried, 
wringing  her  hands. 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am,"  answered  a  man,  in  his  good-natured 
wish  to  soothe  whom  he  took  to  be  a  distracted  woman. 

And  they  rowed  around  and  around,  peering  into  the 
water  and  listening  for  every  sound. 

But  there  was  no  sign  of  the  lost  man. 

After  they  had  sought  for  him  about  an  hour,  the  man 
who  seemed  to  be  the  chief  among  them,  said : 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  quite  vain,  ma'am.  It  is  not  a  drown- 
ing, but  a  drowned  man  that  we  have  been  seeking  for  the 
last  hour.  Tell  us  where  you  wish  to  go,  and  we  will  take 
you  home.    To-morrow  the  body  may  be  recovered." 

But  Mary  Grey,  with  a  wild  shriek,  fell  back  in  her 
boat,  and  lay  like  one  in  a  swoon. 

"We  must  take  the  lady  into  this  boat  of  ours,  and  tow 
the  little  one  after  us,"  said  the  man. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

AFTER  THE  DAEK  DEED 

Mary  Grey  was  lifted,  in  an  apparently  fainting  con- 
dition, from  her  own  little  boat  into  the  larger  one  be- 
side it. 

She  was  laid  down  carefully,  and  waited  on  tenderly  by 
the  sympathizing  ladies  in  the  larger  boat. 

Meanwhile  the  little  boat  was  tied  to  the  stern  of  the 
larger  one,  to  be  towed  up  the  river. 

"Where  are  we  to  take  the  poor,  unfortunate  woman,  I 
wonder?"  said  one  of  the  ladies. 

"If  she  does  not  come  to  her  senses  in  time  to  tell  us 
where  she  lives,  you  can  bring  her  to  my  house,"  answered 
another  lady. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  191 

"Or  to  mine/'  said  a  third. 
*'0r  mine,"  added  a  fourth. 

"Or  mine,"  "Or  mine,"  chimed  in  others. 

Everybody  was  emulous  to  succor  this  unhappy  one. 

As  they  neared  the  city  Mary  Grey  condescended  to 
heave  a  deep  sigh,  shudder  and  open  her  eyes. 

Then  a  chorus  of  sympathizing  voices  saluted  her.  But 
she  wept  and  moaned,  and  pretended  to  refuse  to  be  com- 
forted. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  persevering  efforts  of  a 
gentleman  succeeded  in  persuading  her  to  understand  and 
answer  his  question  as  to  where  she  lived. 

"At  the  Star  Hotel,"  she  said,  with  a  gasp  and  a  sigh, 
as  if  her  heart  were  broken. 

The  boat  landed,  and  the  "poor  lady,"  as  she  was  com- 
passionately called,  was  tenderly  lifted  out  by  the  gentle- 
men and  carefully  supported  between  two  of  them  while 
she  was  led  to  the  hotel,  followed  by  the  ladies. 

The  sad  news  of  the  young  gentleman's  fate  was  imme- 
diately communicated  to  the  people  at  the  hotel,  and  soon 
spread  through  the  towTi. 

Ah,  the  drowning  of  a  man  at  that  point  was  not  sue! 
an  unusual  event,  after  all,  and  it  made  much  less  impres- 
sion than  it  ought  to  have  done. 

Some  people  said  they  felt  sorry  for  the  poor  young 
woman  so  suddenly  bereaved  and  left  among  strangers; 
and  perhaps  they  really  believed  that  they  did  so,  but  the 
next  instant  they  thought  of  something  else. 

But  the  ladies  who  had  been  present  near  the  scene  of 
the  catastrophe,  and  had  witnessed  Mary  Grey's  well-acted 
terror,  grief  and  despair,  really  did  sympathize  with  her 
supposed  sorrows  to  a  very  painful  extent. 

After  following  her  to  the  hotel,  they  went  with  her  to 
her  room  and  helped  to  undress  her  and  put  her  to  bed. 

And  two  among  them  offered  to  remain  and  watch  with 
her  during  the  night. 

The  sinful  woman,  already  a  prey  to  the  horrors  of  re- 
morse and  superstition,  dreading  the  darkness  and  solitude 


192  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

of  the  night,  fearing  almost  to  see  the  dripping  spectre  of 
the  drowned  man  standing  over  her  bed,  gratefully  accepted 
their  offer,  and  begged  at  the  same  time  for  morphia. 

Her  kind  attendants  were  afraid  to  administer  a  dan- 
gerous opiate  without  the  advice  of  a  physician;  so  they 
sent  for  one  immediately,  who,  on  his  arrival  and  his  ex- 
amination of  the  terribly  excited  pailent,  gave  her  a  dose 
that  soon  sent  her  to  sleep. 

The  two  ladies  took  their  places  by  her  bed  and  watched 
her. 

She  slept  well  through  the  night,  and  awoke  quite  calmly 
in  the  morning.  The  composing  influence  of  the  morphia 
had  not  yet  left  her. 

And  with  the  returning  daylight,  much  of  her  remorse 
and  all  of  her  superstition  vanished  for  the  time  being. 

She  thanked  the  ladies  who  had  watched  her  during  the 
night,  and  in  reply  to  their  inquiries,  assured  them  that 
she  felt  better,  bui:  begged  them  tc  keep  he^-  room  dark. 

They  expressed  their  gratification  to  hear  her  say  so. 
One  of  them  bathed  her  face  and  hands  and  combed  her 
hair,  while  the  other  one  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  tea 
and  toast  t(   be  brought  to  the  room. 

And  they  tenderly  pressed  her  to  eat  and  drink,  and  they 
waited  on  her  \v.aile  she  partook  slightly  of  this  light 
breakfast. 

Then  they  rang  and  sent  the  breakfast  service  away,  and 
they  put  her  room  in  order,  and  smoothed  her  pillows  and 
the  coverlet  of  her  bed,  and  finally  they  kissed  her  and 
bade  her  good-morning,  for  a  while,  promising  to  return 
again  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  and  begging  that  she 
would  send  for  them  at  the  addresses  they  gave  her  in  case 
she  should  require  their  services  sooner. 

When  she  was  left  alone,  Mary  Grey  slipped  out  of  bed, 
locked  the  door  after  the  ladies,  and  then,  having  secured 
herself  from  intrusion,  she  opened  her  traveling  bag  and 
took  from  it  a  small  white  envelope,  from  which  she  drew 
a  neatly  folded  white  paper. 

This  was  the  marriage  certificate,  setting  forth  that  on 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  19S 

the  fifteenth  day  of  September,  eighten  hundred  and , 


gt  the  parish  church  of  St.  ,  in  the  city  of  Philadel- 
phia, Alden  Lytton,  attorney-at-law,  of  the  city  of  Rich- 
mond, and  Mary  Grey,  widow,  of  the  same  city,  were  united 
in  the  holy  bonds  of  matrimony  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Borden, 
rector  of  the  church,  in  the  presence  of  John  Martin,  sex- 
ton, and  of  Sarah  Martin,  his  daughter. 

This  certificate  was  duly  signed  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Borden 
and  by  John  Martin  and  Sarah  Martin. 

Mary  Grey  sat  down  with  this  document  before  her, 
read  it  over  slowly,  and  laughed  a  demoniac  laugh  as  she 
folded  it  up  and  put  it  carefully  into  its  envelope  and  re- 
turned it  to  her  traveling  bag,  while  she  reviewed  her  plot 
and  "summed  up  the  evidence"  she  had  accumulated 
against  the  peace  and  honor  of  Alden  Lytton  and  Emma 
Cavendish. 

"Yes,  I  will  let  him  marry  her,"  she  said,  "and  then,  in 
the  midst  of  their  fancied  security  and  happiness,  I  will 
come  down  upon  them  like  an  avalanche  of  destruction.  I 
will  claim  him  for  my  own  husband  by  a  previous  mar- 
riage.   I  have  evidence  enough  to  convict  and  ruin  him. 

"First,  I  have  all  his  impassioned  letters  written  to  me 
from  Charlottesville,  while  I  was  a  guest  at  the  government 
house  in  Richmond. 

"Secondly,  I  have  those  perfectly  manufactured  letters 
addressed  to  me  in  a  fac-simile  of  his  handwriting,  signed 
by  his  name  and  mailed  from  Wendover  to  me  at  Rich- 
mond. 

"  Why,  these  alone  would  be  sufficient  to  prove  his  perfidy 
even  to  Emma  Cavendish's  confiding  heart.  And  they 
would  be  good  for  heavy  damages  in  a  breach  of  promise 
case. 

"But  I  do  not  want  damages.  I  want  revenge.  I  do 
not  want  to  touch  his  pocket — I  want  to  ruin  his  life! 
Yes,  and  hers !  I  want  to  dishonor,  degrade  and  utterly 
ruin  them  both !  And  I  have  evidence  enough  to  do  this," 
she  said,  resuming  her  summing  up,  "for  there  is 


194  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"Thirdly,  his  meeting  me  at  Forestville,  and  his  journey 
with  me  to  Richmond. 

"Fourthly,  his  journey  with  me  to  Philadelphia. 

"Fifthly,  the  rector's  certificate  setting  forth  the  mar- 
riage of  Alden  Lytton  and  Mary  Grey. 

"Sixthly,  the  testimony  of  the  rector,  who  will  swear 
that  he  performed  the  ceremony,  and  of  the  sexton  and 
the  sexton's  daughter,  who  will  swear  that  they  witnessed 
the  marriage  of  Alden  Lyton  and  Mary  Grey,  and  swear, 
furthermore — from  his  exact  resemblance  to  Craven  Kyte 
— to  the  identity  of  Alden  Lytton  as  the  bridegroom. 

"Alden  Lytton  cannot  disprove  this  by  an  alibi,  for  at 
the  very  time  Craven  Kyte  personated  him,  and  under  his 
name  and  character  married  me,  Alden  Lytton,  in  a  dead 
stupor,  was  locked  up  in  his  darkened  chamber,  and  no 
one  knew  of  his  whereabouts  but  myself,  who  had  the  key 
of  his  room. 

"Nor  can  Craven  Kyte  'ever  rise  to  explain,'  for  death 
and  the  Susquehanna  mud  has  stopped  his  mouth. 

"So  this  chain  of  evidence  must  be  conclusive,  not  only 
to  the  minds  of  the  jury,  who  will  send  my  gentleman  to 
rusticate  in  a  penitentiary  for  a  term  of  years,  but  also  te 
Miss  Cavendish,  who  will  find  her  proud  escutcheon  blotted 
a  little,  I  think." 

While  Mary  Grey  gloated  over  the  horrors  of  her  plotted 
vengeance,  there  came  a  rap  at  the  door.  She  hastily  put 
on  a  dressing-gown,  softly  unlocked  the  door,  threw  herself 
into  her  easy-chair,  with  her  back  to  the  window,  and  bade 
the  rapper  come  in. 

The  door  opened  and  the  clerk  of  the  house  entered, 
bringing  with  him  the  house  register,  which  he  held  open 
in  his  hand. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  this  unseasonable  intrusion, 
madam,"  he  said,  as  he  laid  the  open  book  down  on  a  table 
before  her,  "but  being  called  upon  to  report  this  sad  case 
of  the  drowning  of  a  guest  of  this  house,  I  find  some  diffi- 
culty in  making  out  the  name,  for  the  poor  young  gentle- 
man does  not  seem  to  have  written  very  clearly.    The  name 


VICTOR'S  TRIUiVlPH  195 

is  registered  C.  or  G.  something  or  other.  But  whether 
it  is  Hyte,  or  Flyte,  or  Kyle,  or  Hyle,  none  of  us  can  make 
out." 

Mary  Grey  smiled  within  herself,  as  she  secretly  rejoiced 
at  this  opportunity  of  concealing  the  real  name  and  identity 
of  Craven  Kyte  with  the  drowned  man. 

So  she  drew  the  book  toward  her  and  said,  with  an  affec- 
tation of  weariness  and  impatience,  as  she  gazed  upon  poor 
Craven's  illegible  hieroglyphics: 

"Why,  the  name  is  quite  plain.  It  is  G.  Hyle — H-y-l-e. 
Don't  you  see?" 

"Oh,  yes,  ma'am.  I  see  now  quite  plainly.  Excuse  me, 
they  ask  for  the  full  name.  Would  you  please  to  tell  me 
what  the  initial  G.  stands  for  ?" 

"Certainly.  It  stands  for  Gaston.  His  name  was  Gas- 
ton Hyle.  He  was  a  foreigner,  as  his  name  shows.  There, 
there,  pray  do  not  talk  to  me  any  more.  I  cannot  bear  it," 
said  Mary  Grey,  affecting  symptoms  of  hysterical  grief. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  having  troubled  you,  madam, 
indeed.  And  I  thank  you  for  the  information  you  have 
given  me.  Good-day,  madam,"  said  the  clerk,  bowing 
kindly  and  courteously  as  he  withdrew. 

The  next  day  the  newspapers,  under  the  head  of  cas- 
ualties, published  the  following  paragraph: 

"Only  Friday  evening  last  a  young  man,  a  foreigner  of 
the  name  of  Gaston  Hyle,  who  had  been  stopping  at  the 
Star  Hotel,  Havre-de-Grace,  was  accidentally  drowned 
while  boating  on  the  river.  His  body  has  not  yet  been  re- 
covered." 

No,  nor  his  body  never  was  recovered. 

Mary  Grey,  for  form's  sake,  remained  a  week  at  Havre- 
de-Grace,  affecting  great  anxiety  for  the  recovery  of  that 
body.  But  she  shut  herself  up  in  her  room,  pretending  the 
deepest  grief,  and  upon  this  pretext  refusing  all  sympa- 
thizing visits,  even  from  the  ladies  who  had  shown  her  so 
much  kindness  on  the  night  of  the  catastrophe,  and  from 


196  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

the  clergy,  who  would  have  offered  her  religious  consola* 
tion. 

The  true  reason  of  her  seclusion  was,  that  she  did  not 
wish  her  features  to  become  familiar  to  these  people,  lest 
at  some  future  time  they  might  possibly  be  inconveniently 
recognized. 

As  yet  no  one  had  seen  her  face  except  by  night,  or  in 
her  darkened  room.  And  she  did  not  intend  that  they 
should. 

Her  supposed  grievous  bereavement  was  her  all-sufficient 
excuse  for  her  seclusion. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  Mary  Grey  paid  her  bill  at  the 
Star,  and,  closely  veiled,  left  the  hotel  and  took  the  eve- 
ning train  for  Washington,  en  route  for  Richmond. 

In  due  time  she  reached  the  last-named  city  and  took  up 
her  residence  at  her  old  quarters  with  the  Misses  Crane, 
there  to  wait  patiently  until  the  marriage  of  Alden  Lytton 
and  Emma  Cavendish  should  give  her  the  opportunity  of 
consummating  their  ruin  and  her  own  triumph.  Mean- 
while, poor  Craven  Kyte's  leave  of  absence  having  expired, 
he  began  to  be  missed  and  inquired  for. 

But  to  all  questions  his  partner  answered  that  he  did 
not  know  where  he  was,  or  when  he  would  be  back;  but 
thought  he  was  all  right. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

GREAT  PROSPERITY 

Alden  Lytton  prospered  wonderfully.  Not  once  in  a 
thousand  instances  can  a  young  professional  man  get  on 
as  fast  as  he  did. 

Usually  the  young  lawyer  or  doctor  has  to  wait  long 
before  work  comes  to  him,  and  then  to  work  long  before 
money  comes. 

It  was  not  so  with  Alden  Lytton. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  197 

As  soon  as  he  opened  his  office,  business  came  in  at  the 
door. 

His  first  brief  was  a  success. 

His  second,  and  more  difficult  one,  was  a  still  greater 
victory. 

His  third,  and  most  important,  was  the  greatest  triumph 
of  the  three. 

And  from  this  time  the  highroad  to  fame  and  fortune 
was  open  to  him. 

The  astonishing  rapidity  of  his  rise  was  explained  in 
various  ways  by  different  persons. 

Emma  Cavendish,  who  loved  and  esteemed  him,  ascribed 
his  great  prosperity  to  his  own  splendid  talents  alone. 

Alden  Lytton  him.self,  full  of  filial  respect,  attributed  it 
to  the  prestige  of  his  late  father's  distinguished  name. 

And  the  briefless  young  lawyers,  his  unsuccessful  rivals 
at  the  bar,  credited  it  to  the  ''loud"  advertisement  afi'orded 
by  his  handsome  office,  and  the  general  appearance  of 
wealth  and  prosperity  that  surrounded  him. 

^0  doubt  they  were  all  right  and — all  wrong. 

Xot  one  of  these  circumstances  taken  alone  could  have 
secured  the  young  barrister's  success.  Neither  his  own 
talents,  nor  his  father's  name,  nor  the  costly  appointments 
of  his  office,  could  have  done  it ;  yet  each  contributed  some- 
thing, and  all  together  they  combined  to  insure  his  rapid 
advancement  in  his  profession. 

While  Alden  Lytton  was  thus  gaining  fame  and  fortune, 
Mary  Grey  was  engaged  in  mystifying  the  minds  and  win- 
ning the  sympathy  and  compassion  of  all  her  acquain- 
tances. 

From  the  time  of  her  return  from  Philadelphia  she  had 
exhibited  a  deep  and  incurable  melancholy. 

Everybody  pitied  her  deeply,  and  wondered  what  could 
be  the  secret  sorrow  under  which  she  was  suifering. 

But  when  any  friend  more  curious  than  the  rest  ven- 
tured to  question  her,  she  answered : 

"I  have  borne  and  am  still  bearing  the  deepest  wrong 
that  any  woman  can  suffer  and  survive.     But  I  must  not 


198  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

speak  of  it  now.  My  hands  are  bound,  and  my  tongue  is 
tied.  But  tlie  time  may  come  when  a  higher  duty  than 
that  which  restrains  me  now  may  force  me  to  speak.  Until 
then  I  must  be  mute." 

This  was  extremely  tantalizing  to  all  her  friends ;  but  it 
was  all  that  could  be  got  from  her. 

Meanwhile  her  face  faded  into  a  deadlier  pallor,  and  her 
form  wasted  to  a  ghastlier  thinness.  And  this  was  real, 
for  she  was  demon-haunted ! — a  victim  of  remorse,  not  a 
subject  of  repentance. 

The  specter  that  she  had  feared  to  look  upon  on  the 
fatal  night  of  her  crime — that  pale,  dripping  form  of  her 
betraj^ed  and  murdered  lover — was  ever  before  her  mind's 
eye. 

If  she  entered  a  solitary  or  a  half-darkened  room,  the 
phantom  lurked  in  the  shadowy  corners  or  met  her  face 
to  face ! 

It  came  to  her  bedside  in  the  dead  of  night  and  laid 
its  clammy,  wet  hand  upon  her  sleeping  brow.  And  when 
she  woke  in  wild  affright,  it  met  her  transfixed  and  horri- 
fied gaze. 

Her  only  relief  was  in  opium.  She  would  stupefy  her- 
self every  night  with  opium,  and  wake  late  every  morning, 
pale,  haggard,  dull  and  heavy. 

She  must  have  sunk  under  her  mental  suffering  and 
material  malpractices,  but  for  the  one  purpose  that  had 
once  carried  her  into  crime,  and  now  kept  her  alive  through 
the  terror  and  remorse  that  were  the  natural  consequences 
of  that  crime.    She  lived  only  for  revenge — 

"Like  lightning  fire. 
To  speed  one  bolt  of  ruin  and  expire !" 

"I  will  live  and  keep  sane  until  I  degrade  and  destroy 
both  Alden  Lytton  and  Emma  Cavendish,  and  then — I 
must  die  or  go  mad !"  she  said  to  herself. 

Such  was  her  inner  life. 

Her  outer  life  was  very  different  from  this. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  199 

She  was  still  to  all  appearances  a  zealous  church  woman, 
never  missing  a  service  either  on  Sundays  or  on  week 
days,  never  neglecting  the  sewing  circle,  the  missionary 
meetings,  the  Sunday-schools,  or  any  other  of  the  parish 
works  or  charities,  and  always  contributing  liberally  to 
every  benevolent  enterprise  from  the  munificent  income 
paid  her  quarterly  by  Miss  Cavendish. 

Since  her  return  from  Philadelphia  she  had  not  resumed 
her  acquaintance  with  Alden  Lytton. 

They  did  not  attend  the  same  church,  and  were  not  in 
the  same  circle.  It  was  a  very  reserved  "circle"  in  v/hich 
Mary  Grey  "circulated;"  while  Alden  Lytton  sought  the 
company  of  professional  and  scholarly  men. 

Thus  for  months  after  their  return  to  Richmond  they 
did  not  meet. 

Alden  Lytton  in  the  meanwhile  supposed  her  to  be  still 
in  Philadelphia,  filling  a  position  as  drawing-mistress  in 
the  ladies'  college. 

It  was  early  in  the  winter  when  they  accidentally  en- 
countered each  other  on  Main  Street. 

On  seeing  her  form  approach,  Alden  Lytton  stepped 
quickly  to  meet  her,  with  an  extended  hand  and  a  bright 
smile;  but  the  next  instant  he  started  in  sorrowful  sur- 
prise, as  his  eyes  fell  on  her  pallid  face,  so  changed  since 
he  had  seen  it  last. 

"My  dear  Mrs.  Grey,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you!  I  hope 
I  see  you  well,"  he  added,  as  he  took  her  hand,  but  her 
looks  belied  his  "hope." 

"I  am  not  well,  thank  you,"  she  answered,  plaintively, 
and  her  looks  did  not  belie  her  words. 

"I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it.  How  long  have  you  been 
in  the  city?"  he  next  inquired,  holding  her  hand  and  look- 
ing at  her  with  eyes  of  pity. 

"I  have  been  back  some  time,"  she  answered,  vaguely. 
"I  was  forced  to  leave  my  situation  from  failing  health." 

"I  did  not  know  that  you  had  returned,  or  I  should 
have  called  on  you  before  this.  But,"  he  added,  perceiv- 
ing her  physical  weakness,  "  I  am  wrong  to  keep  you  stand- 


goo  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

ing  liere.  I  will  turn  about  and  walk  with  you  while  we 
talk.    Wliich  way  are  you  going?    Will  you  take  my  arm?" 

^'Thanks,  no,  Mr.  Lytton.  I  cannot  take  your  arm;  and 
neither,  if  you  will  forgive  me  for  saying  it,  can  I  receive 
a  visit  from  you.  The  world  is  censorious,  Alden  Lytton. 
And  in  my  lonely  and  unprotected  fashion  I  dare  not  re- 
ceive the  visits  of  gentlemen,"  she  answered,  pensively. 

"That  seems  hard,  but  doubtless  it  is  discreet.  However, 
that  will  be  changed,  I  hope,  in  a  little  while.  In  a  very 
few  months,  I  trust,  your  home  will  be  with  my  beloved 
wife  and  myself.  I  know  it  is  Emma's  desire  that  you 
should  live  with  us,"  he  said,  still  kindly  holding  her  thin 
hand. 

"Is  your  wedding  to  come  off  so  soon?"  she  inquired. 

"Yes,  in  a  few  weeks,  and  tlien  we  are  to  go  to  Europe 
for  a  short  holiday,  and  afterward  take  a  house  in  the  city 
here,"  said  Alden,  smiling. 

"I  wish  you  every  joy  in  your  wedded  life.  And  now, 
Mr.  Lytton,  you  must  let  me  go,"  she  said,  wearily. 

"One  moment.  You  do  not  write  to  Emma  often,  do 
you?  I  ask,  because  only  a  week  ago,  in  one  of  her  letters 
to  me.  Miss  Cavendish  wrote  that  she  had  not  heard  from 
you  for  nearly  three  months,  and  requested  me  to  find  out 
your  addsess,  if  possible.  I  wrote  back  in  reply  that  I  be- 
lieved you  to  be  at  the  ladies'  college,  in  Philadelphia,"  he 
said,  still  detaining  her  hand. 

"I  am  a  bad  correspondent.  My  hand  is  still  lame. 
Just  before  I  left  here  for  Philadelphia,  I  sent  Miss  Cav- 
endish an  acknowledgment  of  the  last  quarterly  sum  she 
sent  me.  I  told  her  then  that  I  was  about  to  go  to  Phila- 
delphia on  particular  business.  I  have  not  written  to  her 
since." 

"And  that  was  nearly  three  months  ago.  That  is  just 
what  is  the  matter.  She  wishes  to  find  out  your  address, 
so  as  to  know  where  to  send  the  next  quarterly  installment 
of  your  income,  Avhich  will  soon  be  due." 

"Tell  her  that  I  have  returned  to  this  city.  And  that 
my  address  is  the  same  as  that  to  which  she  last  wrote." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  201 

"I  will;  but  do  you  write  to  her  also.  I  know  she  is 
anxious  to  hear  directly  from  you." 

"I  will  do  so,"  she  replied;  ''though  I  am  tlie  worst 
possible  correspondent.    Now,  good-day,  Mr.  Lytton." 

"If  I  may  not  call  to  see  you,  at  least  I  hope  that  you 
will  let  me  know  if  ever  I  can  serve  you  in  any  manner," 
he  said,  gently,  as  he  pressed  the  pale  hand  he  had  held 
so  long,  and  relinquished  it. 

They  parted  then,  and  saw  no  more  of  each  other  for 
some  days. 

Alden  went  on  to  his  office,  full  of  pity  for  the  failing 
woman,  who,  he  said  to  himself,  could  not  possibly  have 
many  months  to  live. 

But  his  feelings  of  painful  compassion  were  soon  for- 
gotten in  his  happiness  in  finding  a  letter  from  Emma 
Cavendish  lying  with  his  business  correspondence  on  his 
desk. 

There  was  really  nothing  more  in  it  than  appeared  in 
just  such  letters  that  he  received  two  or  three  times  a 
week,  only  she  told  him  that  she  had  written  to  Mrs.  Grey 
at  the  ladies'  college,  Philadelphia,  and  had  not  received 
any  answer  to  her  letter. 

Before  doing  any  other  business,  Alden  Lytton  took  a 
half-quire  of  notepaper  and  dashed  off  an  exuberant  letter 
to  his  ladylove,  in  which,  after  repeating  the  oft-told  story 
of  her  peerless  loveliness  and  his  deathless  devotion,  he 
came  down  to  practical  matters,  and  spoke  of  their  mutual 
friend,  Mary  Grey.  He  told  Emma  that  Mrs.  Grey  was  in 
the  city  again,  where  she  had  been  for  some  weeks,  although 
he  had  not  been  aware  of  the  fact  until  he  had  met  her  that 
morning  on  Main  Street  while  on  the  way  to  his  office. 

He  told  her  of  "poor  Mary  Grey's"  failing  health  and 
spirits,  and  ghastly  appearance,  and  suggested  those  cir- 
cumstances as  probable  reasons  why  she  had  not  written 
to  her  friends  during  the  last  three  months. 

Then  he  went  back  to  the  old  everlasting  theme  of  his 
infinite,  eternal  love,  etc.,  etc.,  etc.,  and  closed  with  fervent 
prayers  and  blessings  and  joyful  anticipation. 


a02  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THE  MASK  THROWN  OFF 

As  A  consequence  of  this,  two  days  afterward  Mary  Grey 
received  a  tender,  affectionate,  sympathetic  letter  from 
Emma  Cavendish,  pressing  her  to  come  down  to  Blue 
Cliffs  at  once,  and  let  them  love  her  and  nurse  her  back 
to  health  and  happiness.  And  this  letter  inclosed  a  check 
for  double  the  amount  of  the  usual  quarterly  stipend. 

Miss  Cavendish,  for  some  coy  reason  or  other,  did  not 
allude  to  her  approaching  marriage.  Perhaps  she  deferred 
the  communication  purposely,  with  the  friendly  hope  that 
Mary  Grey  would  visit  her  at  Blue  Cliffs,  where  she  could 
make  it  to  her  in  person. 

Mrs.  Grey,  who  did  not  dare  to  let  her  true  handwriting 
go  to  Blue  Cliffs,  lest  it  should  be  seen  and  recognized  by 
Mrs.  Fanning,  and  who  could  not  disguise  it  safely  either, 
without  some  fair  excuse  to  Emma  Cavendish  for  doing 
so,  put  on  a  tight  glove,  and  took  a  hard,  stiff  pen  and 
wrote  a  short  note,  full  of  gratitude  and  affection  for  Emma 
and  all  the  family,  and  of  complaints  about  her  wretched 
crippled  finger,  that  made  it  so  painful  for  her  to  write, 
and  prevented  her  from  doing  so  as  often  as  she  wished, 
and  of  her  still  more  wretched  health,  that  hindered  her 
from  accepting  her  dear  friend's  kind  invitation. 

In  reply  to  this  letter,  she  got  another,  and  a  still  kinder 
one,  in  which  Miss  Cavendish  spoke  of  her  own  speedily 
approaching  marriage,  and  pressed  Mrs.  Grey  to  come  and 
be  present  on  the  occasion,  adding : 

"My  dearest,  you  must  make  an  effort  and  come.  Alden 
himself  will  escort  you  on  the  journey,  and  take  such  good 
care  of  you,  that  you  shall  suffer  no  inconvenience  irom 
the  journey.  You  must  come,  for  my  happiness  will  not 
be  complete  without  the  presence  of  my  dear  father's  dear- 
est friend — of  her  who  was  to  have  been  his  bride. '^ 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  203 

This  loving  and  confiding  letter  was  never  answered  or 
even  acknowledged  by  Mrs.  Grey.  It  was  entirely  ignored, 
its  contents  were  never  mentioned  to  any  one,  and  itself 
was  torn  to  fragments  and  burned  to  ashes. 

Two  more  letters  of  precisely  the  same  character  were 
written  to  her  by  Miss  Cavendish;  but  they  suffered  the 
same  fate  at  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Grey. 

She  had  a  deep  motive  in  ignoring  and  destroying  those 
letters.  She  did  not  wish  the  world  ever  by  accident  to 
find  out  that  she  had  been  informed  of  the  approaching 
marriage  of  Alden  Lytton  and  Emma  Cavendish  before 
it  had  taken  place,  or  in  time  to  prevent  it. 

Two  weeks  passed,  and  then  she  received  a  visit  from 
Mr.  Alden  Lytton. 

She  received  him  alone  in  the  front  drawing-room. 

He  apologized  for  calling  on  her  after  she  had  forbid- 
den him  to  do  so,  but  said  that  he  came  on  the  part  of 
Miss  Cavendish  to  ask  if  she  had  received  certain  letters 
from  Blue  Cliff  Hall,  and  to  renew  in  Emma's  name  her 
pressing  invitation  to  Mrs.  Grey  to  come  and  be  present 
at  the  approaching  wedding. 

''Emma  wishes  me  to  take  charge  of  you  on  the  journey. 
And  I  assure  you,  if  you  will  intrust  yourself  to  me,  I  will 
take  such  tender  care  of  you,  that  you  shall  know  neither 
fatigue  nor  inconvenience  of  any  sort,"  he  added,  earnestly. 

^T  cannot  go,"  she  answered,  coldly. 

"Ah,  do,  for  your  friend's  sake,  change  your  mind," 
pleaded  Alden. 

"I  cannot,"  she  answered. 

"But  Emma  will  be  so  disappointed." 

"I  cannot  help  it  if  she  should  be.  I  cannot  be  present 
at  the  wedding,"  she  repeated,  faintly. 

"But  why  not?    Why  can  you  not  go?"  persisted  Alden. 

"Man!  man!"  she  burst  forth,  suddenly,  as  her  whole 
face  changed  fearfully,  "how  can  you  ask  me  such  a  ques- 
tion? Do  you  forget  that  we  were  to  have  been  married 
once?  that  we  loved  each  other  once?  But  you  threw  me 
over.    Now  you  invite  me  to  your  wedding  with  my  rival ! 


204.  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

And  you  ask  me  why  I  cannot  go !  Do  you  take  me  for 
a  woman  of  wood,  or  stone,  or  iron?  You  will  find  me  a 
woman  of  fire !  I  told  you  not  to  come  here — to  keep  away 
from  me!  If  you  had  had  sense  to  perceive — if  you  had 
had  even  eyes  in  your  head  to  see  with,  you  would  have 
obeyed  me,  and  avoided  me !  I  told  you  not  to  come  here. 
I  tell  you  now  to  go  away.  I  will  not  be  present  at  your 
wedding.  Make  what  explanation  or  excuses  to  Miss  Cav- 
endish you  please.  Tell  her,  if  you  like,  that  the  heart 
you  have  given  her  was  first  offered  to  me ! — that  the  vows 
you  have  made  to  her  were  first  breathed  at  my  feet !  Tell 
her,"  she  added,  with  keen  contempt,  ''that  you  are  but 
a  poor,  second-hand  article,  after  all !  Now  go,  I  say ! 
Why  do  you  stand  gazing  upon  me?  Go,  and  never  come 
near  me,  if  you  can  help  it,  again.  For  I  fancy  that  you 
will  not  feel  very  glad  to  see  me  when  next  we  meet!" 
she  hissed,  with  a  hidden  meaning,  between  her  clenched 
teeth. 

Alden  Lytton  was  so  unutterably  amazed  by  this  sud- 
den outbreak,  that  he  had  no  power  of  replying  by  word 
or  gesture.  Without  resenting  her  fierce  accusation,  or 
even  noticing  her  covert  threat,  he  stood  staring  at  her  for 
a  moment  in  speechless  amazement. 

"Are  you  going?"  she  fiercely  demanded. 

"I  am  going,"  he  said,  recovering  his  self-possession. 
"I  am  going.  But,  Mrs.  Grey,  I  am  more  surprised  and 
grieved  than  I  have  words  to  express.  I  shall  never,  will- 
ingly, voluntarily  approach  you  again.  If,  however,  you 
should  ever  need  a  friend,  do  not  hesitate  to  call  on  me  as 
freely  as  you  would  upon  a  brother,  and  I  shall  serve  you 
in  any  way  in  my  power  as  willingly  as  if  you  were  my  own 
sister." 

"Ur-ur-ur-r-r !"  she  broke  forth,  in  an  inarticulate  growl 
of  disgust  and  abhorrence. 

"Good-by!"  he  said,  very  gently,  as  he  bowed  and  left 
the  room. 

Nothing  but  sympathy  and  compassion  for  this  "poor 
woman,"  as  he  called  her,  filled  his  heart. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  205 

Her  outbreak  of  hysterical  passion  had  been  a  revelation 
to  him ;  but  it  had  shown  him  only  1  If  the  truth.  In  its 
light  he  saw  that  she  loved  him  stiL,  but  he  did  not  see 
that  she  hated  her  rival.  He  saw  that  she  was  jealous,  but 
did  not  see  that  she  was  revengeful. 

He  reproached  himself  bitterly,  bitterly,  for  ever  having 
fallen  under  her  spell,  for  ever  having  loved  her,  or  sought 
to  win  her  love,  and  for  thus  being  the  remote  cause  of 
her  present  sorrows. 

He  had  never  confided  to  Emma  Cavendish  the  story  of 
his  first  foolish,  boyish  love,  and  sufferings  and  cure.  For 
Mary  Grey's  sake  he  had  kept  that  secret  from  his  be- 
trothed, from  whom  he  had  no  other  secret  in  the  world. 

But  now  he  felt  that  he  must  tell  Emma  the  truth, 
gently  and  lovingly,  lest  Mary  Grey  should  do  it  rudely 
and  angrily. 

For  Mary  Grey's  sake,  he  had  hitherto  been  silent.  For 
his  own  and  Emma  Cavendish's  sake  he  must  now  speak. 

He  went  straight  to  the  telegraph  office  and  dispatched 
a  message  to  Miss  Cavendish,  saying  that  he  should  be 
down  to  Wendover  by  the  next  train,  to  pay  her  a  flying 
visit. 

Then  he  hurried  to  his  office,  put  his  papers  in  order, 
left  some  directions  with  his  clerk,  and  hastened  off  to  the 
railway  station,  where  he  caught  the  train  just  as  it  started, 
and  jumped  aboard  the  cars  while  they  were  in  motion. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

A  SUDDEN  WEDDING 


It  was  midnight  when  the  Richmond  train  reached  Wen- 
dover, and  Alden  Lytton  went  to  the  Reindeer  for  the  night. 

Early  in  the  morning  he  arose  and  breakfasted,  and  or- 
dered a  horse  to  take  him  to  Blue  Cliff  Hall. 

Just  as  he  was  getting  into  the  saddle,  Jerome,  the  col- 


we  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

ored  footman  from  the  hall,  rode  up,  holding  two  papers 
in  his  left  hand,  anc  staring  at  them  with  perplexity. 

"Halloo,  Jerome,  jow  do  you  do?"  called  out  Mr.  Lyt- 
ton,  cheerfully. 

The  boy  looked  up,  and  his  surprise  and  perplexity  in- 
stantly mounted  to  consternation  and  amazement. 

"Well!  dis  yer's  witchcraf,  and  nuffin  else!"  he  ex- 
claimed. 

"What  is  witchcraft,  you  goose?"  laughed  Alden. 

"Look  yer,  massa!"  said  Jerome,  riding  up  to  his  side 
and  putting  tEe  two  papers  in  his  hands.  "You  jes  look 
at  dem  dere." 

Alden  took  the  papers  and  looked  as  required. 

Both  papers  were  telegrams.  One  was  his  own  tele- 
gram to  Emma  Cavendish,  saying: 

"I  shall  be  down  to  see  you  by  the  next  train." 

The  other  was  a  telegram  from  Emma  Cavendish  to 
himself,  saying: 

"Come  down  at  once." 

"Well,  what  of  all  this?  Here  is  a  message  and  its  an- 
swer.   What  is  there  in  this  like  witchcraft?" 

"Why,  massa,  'cause  de  answer  came  afore  de  message 
went,  and  you  yerself  come  quick  as  enny.  Dere's  de 
witchcraft." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  knowed  as  de  telegraf  was  fast,  and  likewise  de  steam 
cars,  but  I  didn't  know  as  dey  was  bof  so  fast  as  to  answer 
a  message  afore  it  was  axed,  and  fetch  a  gemman  afore  he 
was  sent  for.    But  here's  de  answer,  and  here's  you." 

"This  is  all  Hebrew  to  me." 

"Which  it  is  likewise  a  conundrum  to  me,"  retorted 
Jerome. 

"Tell  me  what  you  have  been  doing,  and  perhaps  I  shall 
understand  you,"  laughed  Alden  Lytton. 

"Well,  massa,  this  mornin'  by  daybreak  Miss  Emmer 
sent  for  me,  and  give  me  this,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the 
young  lady's  telegram.    "And  says  she: 

"  ^Jerome,  saddle  my  fastest  horse  in  de  stable,  and  ride 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  20T 

as  fast  as  you  can  to  Wendover,  and  send  this  message  off 
to  Mr.  Lytton.  Lose  no  time,  for  we  want  him  to  come 
down  here  as  soon  as  possible/ 

"Well,  Massa  Alden,  I  didn't  lose  no  time,  sar,  nor  like- 
wise let  de  grass  grow  unnerneaf  of  my  feet !  I  reckon  I 
was  in  de  saddle  and  off  in  about  ten  minutes.  But  fast 
as  I  was,  bress  you,  sar,  de  telegraf  was  faster.  When  I 
got  to  de  office  and  hand  de  message  in  to  de  gemman 
dere,  I  says : 

"  ^Send  it  off  quick,  ^cause  Miss  Emmer  wants  Massa 
Alden  to  come  down  right  away.' 

"  ^All  right,'  he  says.  'The  young  gentleman  will  be 
down  by  the  next  train.  And  here's  yer  answer  to  yer 
message.' 

"And  sure  nuff,  Massa  Alden,  he  hands  me  this  yer," 
said  Jerome,  pointing  to  Alden's  own  telegram.  "And 
here's  you,  too.  Now,  what  anybody  think  of  dat  if  it 
an't  witchcraf  ?'^ 

"It  is  a  coincidence,  my  good  fellow.  I  was  coming 
down,  and  I  telegraphed  Miss  Cavendish  to  that  effect. 
When  you  brought  her  message  to  the  office,  you  received 
mine,  which  must  have  been  delayed.    It  is  a  coincidence." 

"Well,  I  s'pose  a  coimperence  is  a  fine  book  larnin'  name 
for  witchcraf ;  but  it's  all  the  same  fing,  after  all,"  per- 
sisted Jerome. 

"I  hope  they  are  all  well  at  Blue  Cliffs,"  said  Mr.  Lyt- 
ton, who  felt  some  little  uneasiness  connected  with  Enmia'a 
telegram. 

"Yes,  sar,  dey's  all  purty  well,  'cept  'tis  de  ole  madam. 
She  an't  been  that  hearty  as  she  ought  to  a  been." 

"I  hope  she  is  not  seriously  ill?" 

"  ISTo,  sar ;  dough  I  did  leave  a  message  long  o'  Dr.  Wil- 
let  to  come  out  dere  dis  morning;  but  you  know  de  ole 
madam  do  frequent  send  for  de  doctor." 

"Come,  Jerome,  we  must  get  on  to  the  hall,"  said  Mr. 
Lytton,  as  he  rode  out  of  the  inn  yard  and  turned  inta 
the  road  leading  to  Blue  Cliffs,  followed  by  the  servant. 

Emma  Cavendish,  who  was  on  the  lookout  for  Jerom^ 


208  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

was  surprised  and  delighted  to  see  her  lover  ride  up  first, 
attended  by  her  messenger. 

"It's  witchcraf,  Miss  Emmer!"  exclaimed  Jerome,  as 
he  got  out  of  his  saddle  to  take  the  young  gentleman's 
horse. 

"It  is  a  coincidence,"  laughed  Alden,  as  he  ran  up  the 
steps  to  greet  his  beloved. 

"Well,  dat's  de  Latin  for  witchcraf.  Miss  Emmer;  but 
it's  all  de  same  ting  in  English,"  persisted  Jerome,  as  he 
led  away  the  horses. 

"Jerome  tells  me  that  grandma  is  not  well.  I  am  sorry 
to  hear  it,"  said  Alden,  as  he  walked  with  Emma  into  the 
house. 

"Grandma  is  nearly  ninety  years  old,  and  she  cannot 
ever  be  well  in  this  world;  but  she  will  soon  be  very  well 
indeed,  for  she  is  very  near  her  eternal  youth  and  health," 
said  Emma,  with  tender,  cheerful  earnestness. 

Alden  bowed  in  silence  as  they  entered  the  drawing- 
room  together. 

"Grandma  told  me  to  telegraph  for  you  to  come  down 
at  once,  Alden.  She  thinks  that  she  cannot  be  here  many 
days,  and  perhaps  not  many  hours.  And  she  wishes  to  see 
you  at  once.  Will  you  go  to  her  now,  dear,  or  would  you 
rather  go  to  your  room  first  ?" 

"I  will  go  to  see  madam  first.  I  have  but  ridden  from 
the  Reindeer  this  morning,  and  so  I  am  neither  fatigued 
nor  dusted.  I  telegraphed  you  yesterday  that  I  was  com- 
ing down  to  see  you  to-day,  and  my  telegram  should  have 
reached  you  yesterday,  but  it  seems  to  have  been  delayed. 
I  left  the  city  by  the  noon  train  and  reached  the  village 
at  midnight.  So  I  happened  to  meet  Jerome  just  after  he 
had  taken  my  delayed  telegram  from  the  agent,  which  he 
supposed  to  be  a  magical  answer  to  your  message." 

"The  whole  arrangements  of  telegraph  wires,  steam  en- 
gines, gaslights  and  Inciter  matches  are  magical  to  him," 
said  Emma,  smiling.  "And  now  stay  here  a  moment,  dear, 
and  wait  until  I  go  and  let  grandma  know  that  you  have 
come,"  she  added,  as  she  went  out  of  the  room. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  209 

Emma  Cavendish  found  the  old  lad}^  sitting  up  in  her 
easy-chair  by  the  sunny  window,  looking  very  white  and 
fragile  and  serene. 

"Alden  has  come,  grandma,  dear.  When  Jerome  went 
to  send  the  telegram  off  for  him,  he  found  Mr.  Lytton  in 
Wendover.  Mr.  L3^tton  had  just  arrived  from  Richmond, 
and  was  about  to  start  for  Blue  Cliffs.  It  was  a  coinci- 
dence," said  Emma,  sitting  down  by  the  old  lady. 

"It  was  a  providence,  my  dear  child — a  providence 
which  has  saved  two  days  in  time  that  is  very  short.  And 
so  he  is  here?"  said  the  old  lad}^  caressing  the  golden  hair 
of  the  girl. 

"Yes,  dear  grandma,  he  is  here  and  waiting  to  come  to 
you  the  moment  you  are  ready  to  receive  him." 

"Tell  him  to  come  now.     And  do  you  come  with  him." 

Emma  left  the  room,  and  soon  returned  with  Alden  Lyt- 
ton. 

"Welcome,  my  son.  Come  here  and  embrace  me,"  said 
the  old  lady,  holding  out  her  arms.  Alden  went  and  folded 
the  faded  form  to  his  bosom,  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  the 
venerable  brow,  as  the  tears  sprang  to  his  eyes ;  for  he  saw 
that  she  was  dying. 

"Alden,  I  am  going  home.  I  must  go.  I  want  to  go. 
I  have  been  here  so  long.  I  am  very  tired.  I  have  had 
enough  of  this.  I  want  to  go  home  to  my  Father.  I  want 
to  see  my  Saviour  face  to  face.  I  want  to  meet  my  hus- 
band and  my  children,  who  have  been  waiting  for  me  so 
long  on  the  other  side.    What  are  you  crying  for,  Emma  ?" 

"Because  I  cannot  help  it,  grandma.  I  know  I  ought 
not  to  cry,  when  you  will  soon  be  so  happy,"  sobbed  the 
poor  child. 

"And  when  I  am  going  to  make  you  and  your  worthy 
young  lover  so  happy,  my  love.  Come,  wipe  your  e3^es  and 
smile !  I  shall  soon  be  very  happy,  and  I  want  to  make 
you  and  AJden  as  happy  as  I  can  l)efore  I  go.  Now  sit 
down,  both  of  you,  and  listen  to  me.'- 

Alden  and  Emma  sat  down,  one  on  each  side  of  her. 

She  was  a  little  tired  with  the  words  she  had  already 


210  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

spoken,  and  she  put  a  small  vial  of  ammonia  to  her  nose 
and  smelled  it  before  she  went  on. 

"N'ow,"  she  said,  as  she  put  aside  the  vial,  and  gave  a 
hand  to  each  of  the  young  people,  "I  want  you  to  attend 
to  me,  and  do  exactly  as  I  bid  you." 

"We  will,  indeed,"  answered  Alden  and  Emma  in  a 
breath. 

"I  wish  you  to  be  married  here  in  my  presence  to-mor- 
row morning." 

Alden  Lytton  gave  her  hand  a  grateful  squeeze. 

"You  should  be  married  to-day,  if  there  were  time  to 
make  the  necessary  arrangements." 

"Yes,  my  son.  A  messenger  must  take  a  letter  to  Lyt- 
ton Lodge,  to  explain  the  circumstances,  and  to  ask  your 
sister  Laura  and  your  Aunt  and  Uncle  Lytton  to  come  im- 
mediately, to  be  present  at  your  marriage  with  my  grand- 
daughter. If  the  messenger  to  Lytton  Lodge  should  start 
at  noon  to-day,  as  he  must,  he  will  hardly  reach  the  Lodge 
before  night.  Nor  will  your  relatives  be  able  to  reach 
here  before  noon  to-morrow.  So  you  see  the  necessity  of 
the  short  delay." 

"Yes,  certainly,"  answered  Alden. 

"Another  messenger  must  take  a  similar  letter  to  Beres- 
ford  Manors,  to  summon  my  son  and  my  youngest  grand- 
daughter, and  your  worthy  guardian  Mr.  Brent,  who  is 
on  a  long  visit  there.  And  it  will  also  take  about  twenty- 
four  hours  to  bring  them  here." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  admitted  Alden. 

"I  say  nothing  of  the  time  it  will  take  to  get  a  license 
and  to  fetch  Mr.  Lyle,  who  must  perform  the  ceremony, 
because  that  can  be  done  in  a  few  hours." 

"If  it  were  possible,  I  would  like  to  have  Mary  Grey 
summoned  by  telegraph  to  attend  the  wedding,"  said 
Emma. 

"x\h,  yes,  certainly  she  ought  to  be  here;  but  there  is 
scarcely  a  chance;  the  time  is  so  short,"  said  Mrs.  Caven- 
dish, as  she  again  resorted  to  the  vial  of  ammonia. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUiVIPH  211 

"Mrs.  Grey  is  in  very  bad  health.  She  would  not  come," 
explained  Alden. 

^'Go,  now,  my  dear  children.  I  am  very  tired;  and  I 
must  sleep  awhile,"  sighed  the  old  lady. 

And  Emma  and  Alden  kissed  her  and  left  the  room. 

In  the  passage  outside  they  met  Mrs.  Fanning,  who 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  them. 

She  cordially  welcomed  Mr.  Lytton,  of  whose  arrival  she 
had  heard  from  the  servants.  And  then  she  inquired  of 
Emma  how  Mrs.  Cavendish  was  getting  on. 

"She  grows  weaker  in  the  body  and  stronger  in  the 
spirit  with  every  successive  hour,  I  think/^  replied  Miss 
Cavendish. 

"Well,  my  dear,  I  only  wished  to  ask  you  that,  and  to 
tell  you  that  I  have  had  lunch  laid  in  the  little  breakfast- 
room,  if  Mr.  L3'tton  would  like  any,"  said  Mrs.  Fanning, 
who  now  took  equal  share  in  all  Emma's  housekeeping 
cares. 

But  Alden,  when  appealed  to,  declined  the  lunch  and 
hintc^i  that  they  had  better  see  to  sending  off  the  messen- 
gers to  Beresford  Manors  and  Lytton  Lodge  immediately. 

And  that  same  noon  the  letters  were  dispatched. 

Alden  Lytton  had  come  down  to  Blue  Cliffs  for  the  pur- 
pose of  confiding  to  Emma  Cavendish  the  story  of  his  first 
boyish  passion  for  Mary  Grey,  and  of  the  violent  manner 
in  which  it  was  cured  forever.  But  finding  all  the  circum- 
stances so  opposite  to  what  he  expected  to  find  them,  he 
changed  his  purpose.  He  could  not  bring  himself  to  add 
another  item  to  the  disturbing  influences  then  surrounding 
Emma. 

That  afternoon  also  Dr.  Willet  came  to  Blue  Cliffs,  and 
Emma  had  to  accompany  him  to  the  bedside  of  her  grand- 
mother, and  afterward  to  hold  quite  a  long  conversation 
with  him  in  the  library. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  doctor  left  the  house,  Mr.  Lyle, 
who  had  heard  of  the  illness  of  Mrs.  Cavendish,  arrived 
to  inquire  after  her  condition. 

Emma  had  to  receive  the  minister  and  accompany  him 


n2  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

to  her  grandmother's  chamber,  and  to  stay  there  and  join 
in  the  prayers  that  were  offered  for  the  sick  woman, 

Mr.  Lyle  remained  with  the  family  all  the  afternoon; 
and  having  received  from  Mr.  Lytton  a  notice  of  the  cere- 
mony he  was  desired  to  perform  the  next  day,  he  prom- 
ised to  be  at  Bine  Cliff  Hall  again  punctually  at  noon,  and 
then  took  leave. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  Alden  Lytton  mounted 
the  swiftest  horse  in  the  Cavendish  stables,  and  rode  to 
Wendover  to  procure  his  marriage  license. 

He  did  not  stay  long  in  the  village,  you  may  be  sure; 
but,  leaving  his  horse  to  rest  and  drink  at  the  Reindeer 
trough,  he  hurried  to  the  town  hall  and  took  out  his  license, 
returned  to  the  inn,  remounted  his  horse,  and  rode  imme- 
diately back  to  Blue  Cliff  Hall. 

As  he  rode  up  the  avenue  toward  the  front  of  the  house, 
he  saw  that  there  had  already  been  some  arrival.  A  large, 
lumbering  old  family  carriage  was  being  driven,  empty, 
around  toward  the  stables. 

Alden  quickened  his  horse's  pace  and  rode  up  to  the 
door,  dismounted,  threw  his  reins  to  Peter,  the  young 
groom,  who  was  waiting  to  take  the  horse,  and  then  ran 
up  the  steps  into  tlie  house. 

He  almost  immediately  found  himself  in  the  arms  of  his 
sister  Laura,  who  had  run  out  to  receive  him. 

"Oh,  Alden,  my  darling,  I  am  so  delighted.  I  wish 
you  so  much  joy !"  she  exclaimed. 

"Only  the  occasion  that  has  hastened  my  happiness  is  a 
sad  one  to  others,  Laura,  my  dear,"  answered  the  young 
man,  gravely. 

"I  don't  think  so  at  all.  I  have  seen  Mrs.  Cavendish. 
I  never  saw  a  happier  woman.  She  is  so  happy  that  she 
wishes  to  make  everybody  else  as  happy  as  she  is  herself," 
said  Laura. 

As  she  spoke  Jolm  Lytton  came  lumbering  into  the  hall. 

"Alden,  boy!  how  do?  I  never  was  so  astonished  in 
my  life !  But  under  the  circumstances  I  suppose  that  it 
is  all  right  to  hi^T-ry  up  things  in  this  a-way.    Your  Aunt 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  213 

Kitty  couldn't  come;  nyther  could  your  grandmother  nor 
the  gals.  Fact  is,  they  hadn't  the  gownds  to  appear  in. 
But  they  wish  you  joy;  and  so  do  I.  For  though  I  do 
think  you  might  a-looked  higher,  because  the  Lyttonses  is 
a  much  older  family  than  the  Caverndishers,  and,  in  fact, 
were  lords  of  the  manor  when  the  Caverndishers  were 
hewers " 

"Uncle  John!"  broke  in  Alden,  with  a  laugh.  "Pray 
let  that  subject  drop  for  the  present.  And  follow  Jerome, 
who  is  waiting  to  show  you  a  room  where  you  can  brush 
your  coat  and  smooth  your  hair,  and " 

"  Make  myself  tidy  for  the  wedding  ?  All  right,  my  boy  ! 
March  on,  Jerome,"  said  John  Lytton,  good-humoredly,  as 
he  followed  his  guide  upstairs. 

As  he  disappeared  another  carriage  rolled  up  to  the  front 
door,  and  Dr.  Beresford  Jones,  Electra,  and  Mr.  Joseph 
Brent — Victor  Hartman — alighted  from  it  and  entered  the 
house. 

Alden  and  Laura  Lytton  stepped  forward  to  receive 
them. 

Electra  seized  and  kissed  Laura  in  a  hurry,  while  the 
gentlemen  were  shaking  hands,  and  then  she  flew  to  Alden 
and  congratulated  him  with  much  effusion. 

"iSTow,  Laura,  take  me  where  I  can  change  my  dress 
quickly.  I  brought  a  white  India  muslin  with  me  to  wear, 
for  I  am  to  be  bridesmaid,  of  course !  So  are  you,  I  sup- 
pose. But  you  haven't  changed  your  dress  yet.  Where  is 
Emma?    What  is  she  going  to  be  married  in ?" 

"Be  quiet,  you  little  Bohemian,"  said  Laura,  cutting 
short  Electra's  torrent  of  words.  "Don't  you  feel  that  this 
is  no  ordinary  wedding?  The  occasion,  if  not  a  sorrowful 
one,  is  at  least  very  serious.  Come,  I  will  take  you  with 
me  to  my  own  room.  We  are  to  lodge  together  in  the 
southwest  room,  as  usual." 

"But  are  you  to  be  a  bridesmaid?"  persisted  the  "little 
Bohemian." 

"Yes;  and  to  wear  my  white  tarletan  dress  and  white 
rose  wreath,"  answered  Laura,  as  they  went  off  together. 


214.  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

*' Where's  Emma,  and  what's  she  doing?  as  I  asked  you 
some  time  ago." 

"She  is  in  her  chamber,  dressing  for  the  ceremony." 

"She  hasn't  got  her  wedding  dress  made  yet;  that  I 
know.    What's  she  going  to  be  married  in?" 

"She  will  wear  her  white  satin  trained  dress,  with  white 
lace  overdress,  which  she  had  made  for  the  last  May  ball, 
you  remember." 

"Oh,  yes.    I  didn't  think  of  that." 

"And  she  will  wear  that  rich,  priceless  cardinal  point 
lace  veil  that  was  her  mother's.  And  she  will  wear  her 
grandmothers  rare  oriental  pearls.  There,  you  little  gipsy! 
Are  you  answered  ?" 

"Yes.  And  she  will  be  magnificent  and  splendid,  even 
if  she  is  gotten  up  in  a  hurry,"  said  Electra,  as  she  fol- 
lowed her  companion  into  their  room. 

Alden  Lytton,  under  the  unusual  circumstances  attend- 
ing the  sudden  wedding,  and  in  the  surprise  of  his  own 
unexpected  happiness,  had  not  once  thought  of  the  neces- 
sity of  making  a  proper  toilet  for  the  occasion.  But  when 
he  heard  the  girls,  who  never,  under  any  circumstances, 
forget  such  a  matter,  talking  of  their  dress,  he  glanced 
down  at  his  own  suit,  and  then  hurried  off  as  fast  as  he 
could  to  his  room  to  improve  his  appearance. 

While  the  younger  members  of  the  family  party  were 
at  their  toilets,  Dr.  Beresford  Jones  was  in  the  Throne 
Room,  closeted  with  his  mother. 

Madam  Cavendish,  weak  as  she  was,  had  insisted  upon 
being  arrayed  grandly,  to  do  honor  to  the  wedding  of  the 
only  daughter  of  the  house. 

She  wore  a  rich  crimson  brocade  dressing-gown,  a  costly 
camel's  hair  shawl,  and  a  fine  point  lace  cap.  She  now 
reclined  very  wearily  in  her  easy-chair,  and  held  in  her 
hand  the  vial  of  ammonia,  which  she  applied  to  her  nose 
from  time  to  time. 

After  a  little  while  she  said  to  her  son : 

"Go  and  inquire  if  they  are  nearly  ready,  Beresford.    I 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  S15 

fear,  I  fear  my  strength  will  scarcely  hold  out,"  she  fal- 
tered faintly. 

Dr.  Jones  opened  the  door  to  go  upon  this  errand,  and 
immediately  perceived  that  it  was  unnecessary. 

John  L}i:ton  and  Mr.  Lyle  were  coming  up  the  stairs,, 
and  the  little  bridal  procession  was  forming  in  the  hall 
below. 

Mr.  Lyle  came  in  and  spoke  to  Dr.  Jones. 

"With  Mrs.  Cavendish's  permission,  even  now  at  the  last 
moment,  we  must  make  some  slight  change  in  the  pro- 
gram," he  said. 

"Well?"  inquired  Dr.  Jones,  pleasantly. 

"I  was  to  have  performed  the  ceremony,  and  you  were 
to  have  given  the  bride  away  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  we  must  change  that.  Mr.  Lytton  has  but  one 
groomsman.  I  must  act  in  that  capacity  also.  You  will 
please  perform  the  ceremony,  and  Mr.  John  Lytton  her© 
will  have  the  honor  of  giving  the  bride  away." 

John  Lytton  bowed. 

"I  am  quite  willing.  I  will  speak  to  Mrs.  Cavendish," 
said  Dr.  Jones,  who  went  to  his  mother^s  chair  and  ex- 
plained the  situation  to  her. 

"Certainly;  be  it  as  you  will,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Lyle  then  returned  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
placed  himself  beside  Laura  Lytton,  who  was  acting  as 
first  bridesmaid. 

John  L\i;ton  and  Dr.  Jones  remained  in  the  room. 

The  little  bridal  procession  soon  entered,  and  ranged 
themselves  in  order  before  the  minister. 

Emma,  as  Electra  had  said,  looked  beautiful  as  a  woman 
and  elegant  as  a  bride.  Her  bridesmaids  also  were  very 
fair  to  see. 

The  ceremony  was  commenced  with  great  impressive- 
ness. 

Old  Mrs.  Cavendish  listened  with  the  deepest  attention, 
leaning  back  in  her  easy-chair  and  sniffing  at  her  bottle 
of  ammonia. 


^16  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

John  Lytton  gave  away  the  bride  a8  if  he  were  making 
a  magnificent  present  at  his  own  expense. 

Emma  Cavendish  not  only  wore  her  mother's  bridal  veil, 
but  was  married  with  her  mother's  wedding  ring. 

Dr.  Beresford  Jones  pronounced  the  benediction. 

And  Alden  Lytton  and  Emma  Cavendish  were  made 
one  in  law,  as  they  had  long  been  in  mind  and  heart. 


CHAPTER  XL 

AFTER  THE  HOLT  WEDDINO 

The  benediction  was  scarcely  spoken  before  the  fair  bride 
left  her  bridegroom's  side,  and  moved  softly  and  swiftly 
to  the  side  of  the  easy-chair,  where  the  form  of  her  ances- 
tress lay  reclining. 

All  eyes  followed  her  strange  action,  as  she  knelt  beside 
the  chair  and  took  the  wasted  hand  of  its  occupant  in  her 
own.  And  some  saw  what  Emma  had  been  the  first  to 
discover — that  the  happy  spirit  of  the  aged  lady  was  even 
then  departing. 

She  spoke  no  word  more,  but  slowly  raising  her  hand, 
she  laid  it  gentlv,  as  in  silent  blessing,  on  the  bowed  head 
of  her  young  descendant,  and  so,  with  a  radiant  smile, 
passed  away  heavenward. 

^*  She's  dropped  asleep,  my  dear,"  said  honest,  stupid 
John  Lytton,  bending  over  to  look  at  the  closed  eyes  and 
peaceful  face. 

"  She  has  fainted.  This  has  been  too  much  for  her,"  said 
Mrs.  Fanning,  catching  up  the  vial  of  ammonia,  and  com- 
ing with  the  intention  of  administering  it. 

"She  is  neither  sleeping  nor  swooning.  She  has  risen," 
said  Emma ;  and  calmly  putting  aside  the  useless  drug,  she 
aroFe  and  reverently  pressed  a  kiss  upon  the  lifeless  lips. 

A  moment  of  deep  silence  followed  her  words. 

Then  Dr.  Jones,  the  son,  himslf  an  aged  man,  drew  near 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  217 

and  tenderly  took  up  the  lifeless  hand  and  looked  into  the 
motionless  face,  and  with  a  profound  sigh  turned  away. 

While  this  group  was  still  gathered  around  the  chair 
of  death  the  door  was  silently  opened,  and  the  family  physi- 
cian entered  the  room  and  stood  among  them. 

''She  is  gone.  Dr.  Willet,"  said  the  son,  turning  to  greet 
the  newcomer. 

The  physician  nodded  gravely  to  the  sorrowing  speaker, 
1)0  wed  to  the  assembled  friends,  and  passed  through  them, 
as  they  made  way  for  him  to  approach  the  body. 

He  felt  the  wrist,  where  there  was  no  pulse,  looked  into 
the  eyes,  where  there  was  no  light,  and  then  with  a  grave 
and  silent  nod  he  confirmed  the  opinion  of  Dr.  Jones. 

Electra,  who  had  been  incredulous  all  this  time  about 
the  reality  of  the  death,  and  was  anxiously  watching  the 
face  of  the  physician,  now  burst  into  violent  weeping,  and 
had  to  be  led  from  the  room  by  Joseph  Brent — Victor 
Hartman. 

Emma  stood  pale  as  marble,  with  her  eyes  cast  down, 
her  lips  tightly  pressed  together,  and  her  hands  closely 
clasped. 

**Take  your  young  bride  away  also,  Mr.  Lytton.  She  is 
exerting  great  self-command  now;  but  she  cannot  much 
longer  control  her  feelings,''  said  Dr.  Willet. 

"Come,  love,"  whispered  the  bridegroom,  as  he  passed 
his  arm  gently  around  the  waist  of  the  now  weeping  girl, 
and  drew  her  away  from  the  scene  of  death. 

Mr.  John  L}i;ton  followed  them  out,  with  the  half- 
frightened  air  of  a  culprit  stealing  away  from  detection. 

There  now  remained  in  the  room  of  death  the  aged  son. 
Dr.  Beresford  Jones ;  the  family  physician,  Dr.  Willet ;  the 
minister  of  the  parish,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle,  and  the  two 
ladies,  Mrs.  Fanning  and  Laura  Lytton. 

''She  passed  away  very  gently,  without  the  least  suffer- 
ing/' said  Mrs.  Fanning. 

'*I  thought  she  wor.ld  do  so.  Hers  has  been  a  really 
physiological  death,  of  ripe  and  pure  old  age,"  answered 
the  doctor. 


218  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

After  a  little  more  conversation  the  gentlemen  withdrew, 
leaving  the  remains  to  the  care  of  the  two  ladies,  while 
they  went  to  commence  arrangements  for  the  funeral. 

Four  da3's  after  this  the  body  of  Mrs.  Cavendish  was 
laid  in  the  family  vault,  beside  those  of  her  husband  and 
her  son,  the  late  governor. 

The  old  lady  had  been  long  and  widely  known,  and 
deeply  and  sincerely  loved  and  honored,  and  her  funeral 
was  as  largely  attended  as  had  been  that  of  her  son,  some 
years  before.  After  these  solemn  offices  had  all  been  per- 
formed, the  frinds  assembled  to  consult  and  make  arrange- 
ments for  the  temporary  disposition  of  the  family  left  be- 
hind. 

It  was  settled  that  Mrs.  Fanning  should  remain  at  Blue 
Cliff  Hall,  in  cliarge  of  the  establishment,  with  Laura  Lyt- 
ton  as  her  guest  and  companion. 

Dr.  Jones  and  Electra  would,  of  course,  return  to  Bores- 
ford  Manors.  They  would  be  accompanied  by  Mr.  Joseph 
Brent — Victor  Hartman — who  had  grown  to  be  a  great 
favorite  with  the  aged  doctor,  and,  in  truth,  almost  in- 
dispensable to  his  comfort  and  entertainment. 

Mr.  Lyle  went  back  to  the  duties  of  his  ministry  al 
Wendover. 

And  finally,  as  there  was  now  a  vacation  of  the  courts, 
and  the  young  barrister  was  temporarily  at  liberty.  Aid  en 
L}i;ton  decided  to  take  his  young  bride  to  Europe  for  their 
bridal  tour. 

On  their  way  to  New  York  they  stopped  for  a  dav  in 
Richmond,  because  Emma  wished  to  see  her  old  "friend" 
Mrs.  Grey,  before  leaving  for  Europe. 

Alden  Lytton,  though  he  felt  persuaded  in  his  own  mind 
that  Mrs.  Grey  would  not  receive  them,  yet  promptly  com- 
plied with  his  fair  bride's  wish. 

So,  the  morning  after  their  arrival  at  the  Henrico  House 
in  Richmond,  Alden  took  a  carriage  and  they  drove  to  the 
old  Crane  Manor  House  and  inquired  for  Mrs.  Grey. 

But,  as  Alden  had  foreseen,  they  received  for  an  answer 
that  Mrs.  Grey  was  not  at  home. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  219 

Upon  further  inquiry,  they  were  told  that  she  had  left 
the  city  on  business,  and  would  not  return  for  a  week. 

And  Alden  Lytton  rightly  conjectured  that  she  had  gone 
away,  and  was  staying  away,  for  the  one  purpose  of  avoid- 
ing Emma  and  himself. 

So  the  young  bride,  with  a  sigh,  reluctantly  resigned  all 
hope  of  seeing  her  unworthy  "friend"  before  sailing  for 
Europe. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  newly  married  pair  took  the 
steamboat  for  Washington,  where  in  due  time  they  safely 
arrived,  and  whence  they  took  the  train  for  the  North. 

They  reached  New  York  on  Thursday  night,  had  one 
intervening  day  to  see  something  of  the  city,  and  to  make 
some  few  last  purchases  for  their  voyage,  and  on  Saturday 
at  noon  they  embarked  on  the  magnificent  ocean  steamship 
Pekin,  bound  from  New  York  to  Southampton. 

We  must  leave  them  on  board  their  ship  and  return  and 
look  up  Mary  Grey. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

MAEY  grey's  mystery 

After  Mrs.  Grey's  last  interview  with  Alden  Lytton, 
during  which,  partly  because  she  lost  her  self-command, 
and  partly  because  she  did  not  care  longer  to  conceal  her 
feelings,  she  had  thrown  off  her  mask,  she  sat  down  to 
review  the  situation. 

"Well,  I  have  betrayed  myself,"  she  mused.  "I  have 
let  him  see  how  I  really  feel  about  this  marriage  engage- 
ment between  him  and  Emma  Cavendish.  He  knows  now 
how  I  loved  him;  if  he  has  eyes  in  his  head,  he  sees  now 
how  I  hate  him. 

"All  right.  I  have  now  no  further  reason  to  deceive 
him.  He  has  served  my  utmost  purpose  for  his  own  and 
her  own  destruction.    I  no  longer  need  his  unconscious  co- 


g£0  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

operation.  I  have  his  honor  and  his  liberty,  and  her  repu- 
tation and  peace  in  my  power,  and  at  my  mercy. 

"And  I  have  done  all  this  myself,  without  the  voluntary 
help  of  any  human  being.  I  have  used  men  as  the  mechanic 
uses  tools,  making  them  do  his  work,  or  as  the  potter  uses 
clay,  molding  it  to  his  purpose. 

"Let  him  marry  Emma  Cavendish.  I  can  part  them  at 
any  moment  afterward,  and  throw  him  into  a  felon's  prison, 
and  cast  her  down  from  her  proud  place  into  misery  and 
degradation. 

"I  could  stop  their  marriage  now,  or  at  the  altar.  But 
I  will  not  do  that;  for  to  do  that  would  be  only  to  disap- 
point or  grieve  them.  But  my  vengeance  must  strike  a 
deeper  blow !  It  must  degrade  and  ruin  them.  I  will  wait 
until  they  have  been  married  some  time.  Then,  in  the 
hour  of  their  fancied  security,  I  will  come  down  upon  them 
like  an  avalanche  of  destruction." 

In  the  feverish  excitement  of  anticipating  this  fiendish 
consummation  of  her  revenge,  she  almost  forgot  her  hein- 
ous crime,  and  ceased  to  be  haunted  by  the  hideous  spectre 
of  her  murdered  lover. 

It  was  on  the  fifteenth  of  the  month  when  she  happened 
to  take  up  the  morning  paper. 

She  turned  first,  as  she  always  did,  to  the  column  con- 
taining notices  of  marriages  and  deaths. 

And  her  face  grew  wild  and  white  as  she  read : 

"Married. — On  the  morning  of  the  10th  instant,  at  Blue 
Cliff  Hall,  Virginia,  the  seat  of  the  bride,  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Beresford  Jones,  Mr.  Alden  L}i;ton,  of  Richmond,  to  Miss 
Emma  Angela,  only  daughter  of  the  late  Charles  Caven- 
dish, Governor  of  Virginia." 

She  read  no  further  that  day.  There  were  other  mar- 
riages following  this,  but  she  felt  no  curiosity  now  about 
them.  And  there  was  a  formidable  row  of  death  notices, 
headed  by  the  obituary  of  Mrs.  Cavendish,  but  she  did  not 
even  see  it. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  221 

The  announcement  of  the  marriage  had  taken  her  by 
surprise.  She  had  not  expected  to  see  it  for  a  month  yet 
to  come.  And  as  she  did  not  observe  the  notice  of  Mrs. 
Cavendish's  death,  she  could  not  understand  why  the  mar- 
riage had  been  hastened  by  so  many  weeks. 

"So  it  is  over,"  she  said.  "It  is  over,  and  it  has  been 
over  for  five  days.  They  are  in  the  midst  of  their  happi- 
ness, enjoyed  at  the  expense  of  my  misery.  Theirs  is  a 
fool's  paradise,  from  which  I  could  eject  them  at  any  mo- 
ment, but  I  will  not — not  just  yet.  The  longer  I  suspend 
the  blow,  the  heavier  it  will  fall  at  last !" 

"They  will  carry  out  their  program,  I  presume,  so  far, 
at  least,  as  to  go  upon  their  bridal  trip  to  Europe.  I  could 
stop  them  on  the  eve  of  their  voyage,  but  I  will  not.  I  will 
let  them  go  and  return,  and  hold  their  wedding  reception, 
and  then,  in  the  midst  of  their  joy  and  triumph,  in  the 
presence  of  their  admiring  friends " 

She  paused  to  gloat  with  demoniac  enjoyment  over  the 
picture  her  wicked  imagination  had  conjured  up.  "Then 
I  will  turn  all  their  joy  to  despair,  all  their  triumph  to 
humiliation,  all  their  glory  to  shame ! 

"And  I  will  do  all  this  alone,  alone,  or  use  others  only 
as  my  blind  tools. 

"Of  course  they  will  take  this  city  on  their  way  to  New 
York,  to  embark  for  Europe.  And  they  will  call  on  me 
to  show  me  their  happiness,  and  take  a  keener  relish  of  it 
from  seeing  the  contrast  of  my  misery.  But  they  shall  be 
disappointed  in  that,  at  least.  I  will  not  be  dragged  at  the 
wheels  of  their  triumphal  car.  I  will  not  stay  here  to  re- 
ceive them.  I  win  leave  town,  and  stay  out  of  it  until  I 
am  sure  that  they  have  passed  through  and  left  it." 

She  kept  her  word.  She  went  down  to  Forestville, 
ostensibly  to  relieve  a  poor  family  suffering  under  an  ac- 
cumulation of  afflictions,  but  really  to  be  out  of  the  way 
of  the  bridal  pair,  and  to  get  up  evidence  in  the  case  she 
intended  to  bring  against  the  husband  of  Emma  Caven- 
dish. 

When  she  had  been  but  a  few  days  at  Forestville  she 


^22  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

received  a  letter  from  Miss  Romania  Crane — who  in  hei 
absence  kept  up  a  sentimental  correspondence  with  her — 
informing  her  of  the  visit  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton, 
the  bride  and  bridegroom  from  Blue  Cliffs,  who  stopped 
for  a  day  in  the  city  on  their  way  to  New  York. 

Immediately  on  her  receipt  of  this  letter  she  returned 
to  Richmond  and  to  the  house  of  the  Misses  Crane. 

x\nd  she  very  much  surprised  and  shocked  these  ladies 
by  assuming  an  air  of  grief  and  distraction  as  extreme  in 
itself  as  it  was  unaccountable  to  them. 

They  could  not  even  imagine  what  was  the  matter  with 
her.  She  refused  to  give  any  explanation  of  her  apparent 
mental  anguish,  and  she  repelled  all  sympathy. 

The  Mises  Crane  were  afraid  she  was  going  to  lose  her 
reason. 

They  went  to  see  the  minister  and  the  minister's  wife  on 
the  subject.  They  found  only  the  lady  at  home.  And  to 
her  they  stated  the  mysterious  case. 

"There  is  something  very  heavy  on  her  mind,  my  dear. 
I  am  sure  there  is  something  awful  on  her  mind." 

"There  has  been  this  long  time,  I  think,"  said  the  min- 
ister's wife. 

"Yes,  I  know;  but  it  is  a  thousand  times  worse  now. 
My  dear,  sHe  keeps  her  room  nearly  all  day.  She  never 
comes  to  the  table.  If  I  send  her  meals  up  to  her,  they 
come  back  almost  untasted.  And  I  assure  you,  she  does 
not  sleep  any  better  than  she  eats.  Her  room  is  over  mine, 
and  so  I  can  hear  her  walking  the  floor  half  the  night," 
said  Miss  Romania  Crane. 

"What  can  be  the  cause  of  her  distress?"  inquired  the 
rector's  lady. 

"I  don't  know.  I  can't  get  her  to  tell  me.  She  only 
says  that  'her  life  is  wrecked  forever,  and  that  she  wishes 
only  to  be  left  to  herself  until  death  shall  relieve  her/  And 
all  that  sort  of  talk,"  said  Miss  Romania. 

"And  have  you  no  suspicion?" 

"None  in  the  world  that  seems  at  all  rational.  The 
only  one  I  have  seems  foolish." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  22S 

"But  what  is  it?" 

"Well,  I  sometimes  think — ^but  indeed  it  is  a  silly 
thought — that  her  distress  is  in  some  way  connected  with 
the  marriage  of  Mr.  Lytton  and  Miss  Cavendish,  for  I 
notice  that  every  time  the  name  of  either  of  them  is  men- 
tioned, she  grows  so  much  worse  that  I  and  my  sister  have 
ceased  ever  to  speak  of  them." 

"It  cannot  be  that  she  was  ever  in  love  with  Mr.  Lyt- 
ton," suggested  the  minister's  lady. 

"I  should  think  not.  I  should  think  she  was  not  that 
weak-minded  sort  of  woman  to  give  way  to  such  sentiment, 
much  less  to  be  made  so  extremely  wretched  by  it.  For  I 
do  tell  you,  my  dear,  her  state  is  simply  that  of  the  utmost 
mental  wretchedness." 

"I  will  ask  my  husband  to  go  to  her.  He  is  her  pastor, 
and  may  be  able  to  do  her  some  good,"  said  the  minister's 
wife. 

"Do,  my  dear,  and  come  to  see  her  yourself,"  said  Miss 
Romania,  as  she  and  her  sister  arose  to  take  leave. 

Now  you  know  all  this  distress  was  just  "put  on"  by 
Mrs.  Grey,  to  give  coloring  and  plausibility  to  her  future 
proceedings. 

To  be  sure,  she  kept  her  room,  but  it  was  not  to  grieve 
in  secret — it  was  to  excite  the  compassion  and  wonder  of 
her  sympathizing  friends,  while  she  laid  her  plans,  drank 
French  cordials,  and  feasted  privately  on  the  delicacies  of 
the  season,  which  she  would  secretly  bring  in,  or  dozed  on 
her  sofa  and  dreamed  of  her  coming  sweet  revenge. 

Certainly,  instead  of  going  to  bed  at  a  decent  hour,  she 
would  walk  the  floor  of  her  chamber  half  the  night.  But 
this  was  not  done  because  she  was  suffering,  or  sleepless 
from  grief,  but  for  the  purpose  of  keeping  poor  Miss  Crane 
awake  all  night  in  the  room  below,  and  making  the  poor 
lady  believe  that  she,  Mary  Grey,  was  breaking  her  own 
heart  in  these  vigils. 

And  for  her  want  of  nightly  rest,  Mary  Grey  com- 
pensated herself  by  dozing  half  the  day  on  her  sofa;  and 


2M  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

for  her  want  of  regular  meals,  she  made  up  by  slipping 
out  occasional!}^  and  feasting  at  some  "ladies'  restaurant." 
But  her  object  was  effected.  She  impressed  everybody 
who  came  near  her  with  the  belief  that  she  had  suffered 
some  awful  wrong  or  bereavement  of  which  she  could  not 
speak,  but  which  threatened  to  unseat  her  reason  or  end 
her  life. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

MARY  grey's  story 

At  length  her  minister  came  to  see  her.  He  expressed 
the  deepest  sympathy  with  her  sufferings,  and  implored 
her  to  relieve  her  overburdened  heart  by  confiding  in  him, 
or  in  his  wife,  from  either  or  both  of  whom,  he  assured 
her,  she  would  receive  respectful  compassion  and  substan- 
tial assistance,  if  the  last  was  necessary. 

Then,  pretending  to  yield  to  his  better  judgment,  she 
consented  to  give  him  her  confidence. 

And  taking  him  up  to  her  own  sitting-room,  where  they 
could  be  safe  from  interruption,  she  bound  him  over  to 
secrecy,  and  then,  with  many  affected  tears  and  moans,  she 
told  him  the  astounding  story  that  she  had  long  been  pri- 
vately married  to  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  who  had  deserted  her 
within  a  few  days  after  their  wedding,  and  who  had  re- 
cently, as  every  one  knew,  united  himself  in  matrimony 
with  Miss  Emma  Cavendish  of  Blue  Cliffs,  Virginia,  and 
had  gone  with  her  on  a  wedding  trip  to  Europe. 

While  she  told  him  this  stupendous  tale,  the  minister 
sat  with  open  mouth  and  eyes,  gazing  on  her  with  more 
of  the  air  of  an  idiot,  than  of  a  learned  and  accomplished 
gentleman. 

He  was,  in  fact,  utterly  amazed  and  confounded  by  the 
story  he  had  heard. 

That  Alden  Lytton,  a  young  man  of  the  highest  social 
position,  of  unblemished  reputation  from  his  youth  up,  an 
accomplished  scholar,  a  learned  jurist,  an  eloquent  bar* 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  S25 

rister,  and  more  than  all,  a  Christian  gentleman,  should 
hav^  been  guilty  of  the  base  treachery  and  the  degrading 
crime  here  charged  npon  him,  was  just  simply  incredible — 
no  more  nor  less  than  incredible ! 

Or  that  Mary  Grey,  the  loveliest  lady  of  his  congrega- 
tion, should  be  capable  of  a  malicious  fabrication,  was  ut- 
terly impossible! 

There  was,  then,  but  one  way  out  of  the  dilemma ;  Mary 
Grey  was  insane,  and  suffering  under  a  distressing  hallu- 
cination that  took  this  form. 

So  said  the  look  of  consternation  and  pity  that  the  min- 
ister fixed  upon  the  speaker's  face. 

"I  see  that  you  discredit  my  story,  and  doubt  even  my 
sanity.  But  here  is  something  that  you  can  neither  doubt 
nor  discredit,"  she  said,  as  she  drew  from  her  pocket  the 
marriage  certificate  and  placed  it  in  his  hands. 

The  minister  opened  and  read  it.  And  as  he  read  this 
evidence  of  a  "Christian  gentleman's"  base  perfidy,  the 
look  of  consternation  and  amazement  that  had  held  pos- 
session of  his  countenance  gave  place  to  one  of  disgust  and 
abhorrence. 

"Do  you  doubt  now?"  meaningly  inquired  Mary  Grey. 

"Ah,  no,  I  cannot  doubt  now.  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  could  ! 
I  would  rather,  my  child,  believe  you  to  be  under  the 
influence  of  a  distressing  hallucination  than  know  this  man 
to  be  the  consummate  villain  this  certificate  proves  him  to 
be.  I  cannot  doubt  the  certificate.  I  wish  I  could;  but 
I  know  this  Rev.  Mr.  Borden.  On  my  holiday  trips  North, 
I  have  sometimes  stopped  at  his  house  and  filled  his  pulpit. 
I  am  familiar  with  his  handwriting.  I  cannot  doubt," 
groaned  the  minister. 

Mary  Grey  dropped  her  hands,  and  pretended  to  sob 
aloud. 

"  Do  not  weep  so  much,  poor  child !  Deeply  wronged 
as  you  have  been  by  this  ruthless  sinner,  you  have  not 
been  so  awfully  injured  as  has  been  this  most  unhappy 
young  lady.  Miss  Cavendish,  whom  he  had  deceived  to  her 
destruction,"  said  the  minister. 


S26  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"And  do  you  not  suppose  that  I  grieve  for  her,  too?" 
sobbed  Mary  Grey. 

"Ah,  yes,  I  am  sure  your  tender,  generous  heart, 
wronged  and  broken  as  it  is,  has  still  the  power  left  to 
grieve  for  her  as  well  as  for  yourself." 

"But  what  is  my  duty?  Ah!  what  is  my  duty  in  this 
supreme  trial?  I  cannot  save  my  life  or  hers  from  utter 
wreck,  but  I  can  do  my  duty,  and  I  will  do  it,  if  only  it  is 
pointed  out  lo  me!  Oh,  sir,  point  it  out  to  me!'^  cried 
the  hypocrite,  clasping  her  hands  with  a  look  of  sincerity 
that  might  have  deceived  a  London  detective. 

"My  dear,  can  you  possibly  be  in  doubt  as  to  what  your 
duty  is?"  sorrowfully  inquired  the  minister. 

"Oh,  my  mind  is  all  confused  by  this  terrible  event.  I 
cannot  judge  rationally.  Ought  I  to  keep  silence,  and  go 
away  to  some  remote  place  and  live  in  obscurity,  dead  to 
the  world,  so  as  never  even  by  chance  to  interfere  with 
their  happiness,  or  to  bfing  trouble  on  Miss  Cavendish? 
I  think,  perhaps,  he  expects  even  that  much  from  my  devo- 
tion to  him.  Or  ought  I  not  to  make  way  with  myself 
altogether,  for  her  sake?  Would  not  a  courageous  suicide 
be  justifiable,  and  even  meritorious,  under  such  trying 
circumstances  ?" 

"My  child !  my  child !  how  wildly  and  sinfully  you  talk! 
Your  brain  is  certainly  touched  by  your  troubles.  You 
must  not  dream  of  doing  any  of  the  dreadful  things  you 
have  mentioned.  Your  duty  lies  plainly  before  you.  Will 
vou  have  the  courage  to  do  it,  if  I  point  it  out  to  you  ?'' 

"Oh,  yes,  I  will !  I  will !    It  is  all  that  is  left  me  to  do." 

"Then  your  duty  is  to  lodge  information  against  that 
wretched  man,  so  that  he  shall  be  arrested  the  moment  he 
sets  foot  in  the  State." 

"Oh,  heaven  of  heavens  !  And  ruin  Emma  Cavendish !" 
exclaimed  the  traitress,  in  well-simulated  horror. 

"And  save  Emma  Cavendish  from  a  life  of  involuntary 
degradation  and  misery.  You  must  do  this.  To-morrow 
I  will  introduce  you  to  a  young  lawyer  of  distinguished 
ability,  who  will  give  you  legal  advice  even  as  I  have  given 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  S2T 

you  religious  counsel.  Aod  we  will  both  confer  together, 
so  as  to  save  you  as  much  as  possible  from  all  painful  share 
in  the  prosecution  of  this  man." 

"It  is  all  painful !  All  agonizing!  But  I  think  you  and 
I  will  not  shrink  from  our  duty.  Oh,  could  you  ever  have 
believed,  without  such  proof  as  I  have  given,  that  Mr.  Al- 
den  Lytton  could  ever  have  been  guilty  of  this  crime?" 

"Never!  never!  And  yet  I  know  that  men  of  exalted 
character  have  sometimes  fallen  very  deeply  into  sin.  Even 
David,  'the  man  after  God's  own  heart,'  took  the  wife  of 
his  devoted  friend,  and  betrayed  this  faithful  friend  to  a 
cruel  death !  Why  should  we  wonder,  then,  at  any  man's 
fall?  But,  my  child,  I  must  ask  you  a  question,  that  I 
have  been  wanting  to  ask  you  all  this  time.  Why  did  you 
not  interfere  to  stop  this  felonious  marriage  before  it  took 
place?  What  timidity,  what  weakness,  or  what  pride  was 
it  that  restrained  your  hand  from  acting  in  time  to  prevent 
this  fearful  crime  of  Mr.  Lytton,  this  awful  wrong  to  Miss 
Cavendish,  from  being  consummated?"  gravely  and  sadly 
inquired  the  minister. 

"Oh,  sir !  how  can  you  ask  me  such  a  question?  Do  you 
suppose  that  if  I  had  had  the  remotest  suspicion  of  what 
was  going  on,  I  should  not  have  interfered  and  prevented 
it  at  all  hazards,  yes,  even  at  the  sacrifice  of  my  own  life, 
if  that  had  been  necessary?" 

"You  did  not  know  of  this  beforehand,  then?'* 

"Why,  certainly  not !" 

"Nor  suspect  it?" 

"Assuredly  not.  I  had  not  the  least  knowledge,  nor  the 
faintest  suspicion  that  anything  of  the  sort  was  contem- 
plated by  Mr.  L)'tton,  until  after  it  was  all  over.  The 
first  I  heard  of  it  was  from  the  Misses  Crane,  who  wrote 
me  at  Forestville  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton,  the 
bride  and  bridegroom,  from  Blue  Cliffs,  had  called  on  me 
during  my  absence.  The  news,  when  it  was  confirmed, 
nearly  killed  me.  But  think  of  the  insanity  of  their  call- 
ing on  me!  But  I  know  that  was  Emma's  wish.  And  I 
feel  sure  that  Mr.  Lytton  must  have  kno\\Ti  of  my  absence 


^^8  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

from  town,  or  lie  never  would  have  ventured  to  bring  his 
deceived  bride  into  my  home!" 

'•^0,  indeed,  probably  not.  Well,  my  poor  child,  I  have 
shown  you  your  painful  duty.  See  that  you  do  not  falter 
in  it,"  said  the  rector,  as  he  rose  to  take  leave. 

"I  will  not,"  answered  Mary  Grey. 

"I  will  call  at  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning,  to  take 
you  to  Mr.  Desmond's  office." 

"I  will  be  ready. '^ 

And  the  minister  took  his  leave. 

Punctual  to  his  appointment,  the  next  morning  at  ten 
o'clock  the  rector  called  for  Mary  Grey,  and  took  her  in 
his  own  carriage  to  the  office  of  Philip  Desmond,  one  of 
the  most  talented  among  the  rising  young  barristers  of 
Richmond. 

Mr.  Desmond  enjoyed  a  high  reputation  not  only  as  a 
professional  man,  but  as  a  private  gentleman. 

But  he  was  the  professional  rival  and  the  political  oppo- 
nent of  Mr.  Alden  L3^tton.  They  were  always  engaged 
on  opposite  sides  of  the  same  case,  and  on  several  important 
occasions  Alden  Lytton  had  gained  a  triumph  over  Philip 
Desmond. 

He  was,  therefore,  more  astonished  than  grieved  when 
the  rector,  after  introducing  Mary  Grey  under  the  nam* 
of  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton,  proceeded  to  confide  to  him,  under 
the  seal  of  temporary  secrecy,  the  stupendous  story  of  Al- 
den Lytton's  double  marriage. 

He  expressed  much  amazement  at  the  double  treachery 
of  the  man,  deep  sympathy  with  the  sorrows  of  the  suffer- 
ing and  forsaken  wife,  and  great  indignation  at  the  wrongs 
of  the  deceived  and  unhappy  young  lady. 

He  readily  promised  to  co-operate  with  the  minister  in 
having  the  culprit  brought  speedily  to  justice. 

"You,  madam,  of  course,  as  his  wife,  can  take  no  active 
part  in  the  prosecution  of  this  man.  You  cannot  even  give 
testimony  against  him  with  your  own  voice.  But  you  must 
appear  in  court,  to  be  identified  by  the  rector,  the  sexton 


VICTOR'S  TRIUIMPH  229 

and  others  who  witnessed  3^our  marriage,"  said  the  lawyer, 
in  taking  leave  of  his  visitors. 

The  rector  took  Mrs.  Grey  back  to  her  boarding-lionse, 
and  while  she  was  gone  upstairs  to  lay  off  her  bonnet  and 
shawl,  he  told  the  Misses  Crane  that  their  interesting 
boarder  had  confided  her  trouble  to  him :  that  she  had 
suffered  the  deepest  wrong  that  any  woman  could  be 
doomed  to  bear ;  but  he  could  not  explain  more  then ;  they 
would  know  all  about  it  in  a  short  time,  when  the  wrong- 
doer should  be  brought  to  justice. 

And  having  tlms  mystified  the  poor  ladies,  he  further 
recommended  Mary  Grey  to  their  tenderest  sympathy  and 
care. 

And  so  he  went  home,  leaving  them  in  a  state  of  greater 
bewilderment  than  ever. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

ABOUT  BLUE  CLIFFS 

Befoee  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton  had  left  Blue  Cliff 
Hall,  they  had  made  arrangements  for  the  complete  reno- 
vation of  that  old  ancestral  seat,  to  be  carried  on  under 
the  supervision  of  tlie  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle. 

And  they  expressed  their  intention  to  purchase  and  send 
furniture  from  London  and  Paris  to  refit  it. 

But  the  works  were  scarcely  commenced  when  they  had 
to  be  suspended  for  a  few  days. 

Another  death  had  occurred  in  the  family  circle. 

Dr.  Beresford  Jones,  after  a  very  pleasant  evening  spent 
at  Blue  Cliff  Hall,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Fanning,  Laura 
Lytton,  his  grandaughter  Electra,  and  his  great  favorite, 
Mr.  Joseph  Brent,  arose,  saying: 

^'  I  will  now  retire  to  bed,  and  I  recommend  you,  Electra, 
my  dear,  to  do  the  same,  as  we  have  to  rise  early  to-mor- 


230  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

TOW  morning  to  set  out  on  our  return  to  Beresford 
Manors/' 

And  he  kissed  her  good-night,  bowed  to  the  other  mem- 
bers of  the  circle,  took  up  his  taper,  and  retired. 

The  next  morning  he  went  away  indeed,  but  not  to 
Beresford  Manors. 

For  when  Electra  went  into  his  room,  as  was  her  cus- 
tom, to  kiss  him  good-morning  before  he  should  get  up, 
she  found  nothing  but  his  body,  still  warm,  and  with  the 
face  still  wearing  the  happy  smile  with  which  his  spirit 
had  impressed  it  in  taking  his  heavenward  flight. 

Her  screams  desecrated  the  holy  room  of  death,  and 
brought  all  the  household  to  her  presence. 

When  they  discovered  the  cause  of  the  girl's  wild  grief, 
Mrs.  Fanning  and  I.aura  Lytton  together  forced  her  from 
the  room  and  took  her  to  her  own  chamber,  where  they 
set  themselves  to  soothe  her. 

Joseph  Brent,  himself  overcome  with  grief  at  the  sud- 
den loss  of  one  who  had  proved  himself  so  warm  a  friend, 
set  out  on  horseback  to  Wendover,  to  fetch  the  family 
phj^sician  and  the  minister. 

They  were  useless  to  the  departed,  of  course,  but  they 
might  be  of  some  service  to  the  bereaved  ones  left  behind. 

So  Mr.  Lyle  and  Dr.  Willet  returned  with  Mr.  Brent, 
and  remained  at  Blue  Clif!  Hall  until  after  all  was  over. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  within  one  fortnight  there 
were  two  funerals  at  Blue  Cliffs. 

On  the  day  after  that  upon  which  the  remains  of  Beres- 
ford Jones  were  laid  in  the  family  vault  his  will  was  opened 
and  read  to  his  relatives. 

With  the  exception  of  a  few  legacies  left  to  friends  and 
servants,  he  bequeathed  the  whole  of  his  real  estate  and 
personal  property  exclusively  and  unconditionally  to  his 
beloved  grandaughter,  Electra  Coroni. 

And  he  appointed  his  esteemed  friends  Stephen  Lyle 
and  Joseph  Brent  joint  executors  of  his  will,  trustees  of 
his  estate,  and  g-uardian  of  his  heiress. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUIVIPH  231 

And  to  each  of  these  executors  he  left  a  legacy  of  ten 
thousand  dollars. 

Folded  within  the  will  was  an  informal  letter  addressed 
to  his  surviving  friends,  and  requesting  that  no  mourning 
should  be  worn  for  him,  no  wedding  deferred,  no  inno- 
cent pleasure  delayed  on  his  account,  for  that  death  was 
only  a  higher  step  in  life,  and  that  which  to  him  would  be 
a  great  gain  and  glory  must  not  seem  to  them  a  loss  and 
gloom. 

Electra,  with  her  gusty  nature,  wept  vehemently  during 
the  reading  of  this  will  and  letter. 

But  there  was  one  present  who,  though  he  betrayed  no 
emotion,  was  much  more  deeply  moved  than  any  one  pres- 
ent.   This  was  Joseph  Brent. 

In  being  appointed  guardian,  trustee  and  executor  of 
the  will,  he  had  just  received  from  Dr.  Beresford  Jones 
the  greatest  proof  of  esteem  and  confidence  that  any  one 
man  could  receive  from  another;  and  when  he  thought  of 
this  in  connection  with  his  own  woful  past,  he  felt  deeply 
disturbed. 

After  the  reading  of  the  will  the  assembled  relatives 
dispersed  from  the  room,  leaving  the  two  executors  to  con- 
verse together. 

When  Joseph  Brent  found  himself  alone  with  his  friend 
Stephen  Lyle,  he  gave  way  to  his  feelings  and  said : 

"My  heart  is  full  of  compunction." 

"Why?''  gravely  inquired  Mr.  Lyle. 

"Because  I  should  have  confided  in  the  dear  old  friend 
who  put  so  much  trust  in  me.  I  should  have  told  him  my 
whole  miserable  past  history.  And  then,  perhaps,  he  never 
would  have  given  me  so  great  a  mark  of  his  esteem.  And 
Heaven  knows  I  fully  intended  to  tell  him  before  asking 
him  to  accept  me  as  the  suitor  of  his  grandadughter,  even 
tliough  it  had  cost  me  the  loss  of  her  who  is  dearer  to  me 
than  life !  But  I  put  off  the  painful  task,  and  now  it  is 
too  late !  And  I  feel  as  if  I  had  obtained  the  honors  lie  has 
conferred  upon  me  by  a  fraud.  No  less !"  said  Joseph 
Brent,  covering  his  face  with  his  hands. 


S32  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"My  brother,  3'ou  are  morbid  on  this  subject.  Certainly 
you  intended  to  tell  him  before  asking  to  marry  his  grand- 
daughter. And  most  certainly  it  would  have  been  right 
for  you  to  do  so,  had  he  remained  among  us.  But  he  is 
gone.  And  you  are  free  from  blame.  If  you  must  tell  any 
one,  tell  the  girl  you  love,  and  who  loves  and  trusts  you, 
for  it  is  now  no  one's  business  but  hers  and  yours.  Or, 
rather,  because  you  would  never  do  yourself  justice,  let  me 
tell  her  how  once  a  poor,  motherless  boy,  left  to  himself, 
lost  his  way  in  the  world,  and  strayed  even  to  the  very 
brink  of  perdition.  And  how  nobly  since  that  he  has,  by 
the  grace  of  Heaven,  redeemed  and  consecrated  his  life. 
And  then  see  if  she  will  not  place  her  hands  in  yours,  for 
good  and  all.'' 

"You  always  comfort  and  strengthen  me,"  said  the 
young  man,  seizing  and  wringing  the  hand  of  his  friend. 

And  then  they  consulted  about  the  will  of  the  late  Dr. 
Jones,  and  the  arrangements  to  be  made  with  his  estates, 
and  the  disposition  to  be  made  of  his  heiress. 

"We  are  her  guardians,"  said  Mr.  Lyle,  "but  neither 
you  nor  I,  being  bachelors  both,  have  a  proper  home  to 
offer  her.  Nor  will  it  be  well  for  her  to  live  at  Beresford 
Manors,  with  no  one  but  her  colored  servants.  Mrs.  Fan- 
ning has  invited  her  to  remain  here  for  the  present,  and 
really  this  house  seems  to  be  the  best  place  for  her  just 
now.  But,  after  all,  the  decision  must  be  left  to  herself, 
and  she  must  choose  her  own  home." 

Mr.  Brent  agreed  perfectly  with  the  views  of  Mr.  Lyle. 

And  later  in  the  same  afternoon  they  consulted  the 
wishes  of  their  young  ward,  who  emphatically  declared  in 
favor  of  Blue  Cliff  Hall  as  her  temporary  home. 

The  next  morning  ^Ir.  Lyle  and  Mr.  Brent  took  leave 
of  the  ladies  and  returned  to  Wendover,  where  the  Cali- 
fornian  again  became  the  inmate  of  the  minister's  home. 

But  both  gentlemen  continued  to  be  frequent  visitors  at 
Blue  Cliff  Hall. 

On  the  ]\IondaY  following  the  funeral,  the  work  was  re- 
commenced on  the  old  mansion,  and  went  rapidly  on — the 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  235 

three  ladies,  Mrs.  Fanning,  Laura  Lytton  and  Electra, 
moving  from  one  part  of  the  house  to  another  as  the  im- 
provements progressed. 

Six  weeks  after  this  they  received  the  first  cargo  of  new- 
furniture  for  the  drawing-rooms,  which  were  ready  for  it. 

And  as  the  work  went  on  from  room  to  room,  they  re- 
ceived more  furniture  to  fit  them  up. 

At  the  end  of  three  months  the  work  was  completed 
within  and  without. 

And  the  fine  old  mansion,  thoroughly  remodeled  and  re- 
furnished, presented  as  elegant  and  attractive  an  appear- 
ance as  any  modern  palace  in  the  whole  country. 

And  then,  when  all  was  ready  for  the  returning  bride 
and  bridegroom,  Mrs.  Fanning  received  a  letter  from  them, 
informing  her  that  on  the  Saturday  following  the  date  of 
that  letter  they  were  to  embark  on  board  the  steamship 
Amazon,  bound  from  Liverpool  to  New  York,  and  they 
expected  to  be  at  Blue  Cliffs  in  two  weeks  from  the  day  of 
embarkation. 

Yes,  the  happy  young  pair  were  on  their  way  home, 
unconscious  of  the  horrible  pitfall  that  had  been  dug  to 
receive  them. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

WEDDINGS  AND  WEDDING  RECEPTIONS 

It  was  a  beautiful  day,  near  the  last  of  May.  And  the 
scenery  all  around  Blue  Cliff  Hall  was  glorious  with  sun- 
shine, bloom  and  verdure. 

A  happy  party  of  friends  was  assembled  at  the  hall  that 
day  for  a  double  purpose — to  meet  the  returning  bride- 
groom and  bride,  who  were  expected  to  arrive  that  evening, 
and  to  assist  at  their  wedding  reception,  which  was  to  be 
fiirther  graced  by  two  new  bridals  the  next  morning,  for 
it  had  been  arranged  by  correspondence  that  Stephen  Lyle 


234  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

and  Laura  Lytton  and  Joseph  Brent  and  Electra  Coroni 
should  be  married  on  that  occasion. 

All  was  ready;  the  house  newly  restored,  decorated  and 
furnished,  the  rooms  aired  and  adorned  with  flowers,  and 
the  wedding  breakfast  laid  out  in  the  long  dining-room. 

The  supper  table  for  the  returning  travelers  was  set  in 
the  small  dining-room,  opening  upon  the  garden  of  roses. 

Carriages  had  been  sent  from  the  hall  early  that  morn- 
ing to  meet  the  travelers,  who  were  expected  to  reach  Wen- 
dover  by  the  noon  train  from  Richmond,  and  to  come  direct 
to  the  hall,  so  as  to  arrive  in  time  for  an  early  tea. 

On  the  delightful  porch  in  front  of  the  house,  that  com- 
manded a  view  of  the  carriage  drive  and  the  forest  road 
beyond,  sat  a  pleasant  group,  enjoying  the  magnificent  sun- 
set of  that  mountain  region,  and  watching  the  road  for  the 
first  appearance  of  the  carriages  that  were  to  bring  home 
their  beloved  young  friends. 

This  happy  group  was  composed  of  Mrs.  Fanning,  Laura 
Lytton,  Electra  Coroni,  Stephen  Lyle,  and  Joseph  Brent. 

"I  hope  they  will  arrive  before  the  sun  goes  quite  down. 
I  should  like  them  to  come  home  in  the  sunshine,"  said 
Laura  Lytton,  looking  anxiously  at  the  glorious  orb  just 
then  touching  the  horizon. 

N"o  one  answered.  All  were  watching  the  setting  sun, 
and  listening  for  the  sound  of  the  carriage  wheels  until  a 
few  moments  had  passed,  and  then  Electra  said,  with  a 
sigh: 

"You  will  not  get  your  wish,  then,  for  the  sun  is  gone, 
and  they  are  not  come." 

"They  are  coming  now,  however.  I  hear  the  sound  of 
their  carriage  wheels,"  said  Joseph  Brent. 

"Yes,  indeed,  for  I  see  the  carriage  now,"  added  Mr. 
Lyle,  as  the  traveling  coach  rolled  rapidly  in  sight  of  the 
whole  party,  and  turned  into  the  home  drive. 

A  few  moments  more,  and  the  carriage  drew  up  before 
the  house,  and  Alden  Lytton  alighted  and  handed  out  his 
wife. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  235 

Another  moment  and  Alden  was  in  the  arms  of  his  sis- 
ter, and  Emma  on  the  bosom  of  Mrs.  Fanning. 

Hearty  greetings,  warm  embraces  ensued,  and  then  they 
held  oif  to  look  at  each  other. 

Emma  was  more  beautiful  and  Alden  handsomer  than 
ever. 

"What  a  happy  coming  home!"  said  Emma,  gratefully. 
"And  you  are  all  so  well!  And  you  are  all  here,  except 
those  who  are  in  heaven.  Stay!  I  think  they  also  are 
here  to  meet  us,  though  we  do  not  see  them !  Come,  let  us 
enter  the  house." 

"Let  me  show  you  to  your  rooms.  No  one  shall  be  your 
'groom  of  the  chambers,'  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton,  but 
myself,"  said  Laura,  playfully,  as  she  led  the  way  upstairs 
to  the  elegant  apartments  that  had  been  prepared  for  the 
young  master  and  mistress  of  the  house. 

"Come,  too,  Electra.  I  do  not  wish  to  lose  sight  of  you 
so  soon,  my  child,"  said  Emma,  kindly,  as  they  went  along. 
"Is  everything  arranged  satisfactorily  to  yourselves,  my 
dears,  and  are  you  both  ready  to  be  married  at  the  same 
time  to-morrow?"  she  inquired,  addressing  her  two  com- 
panions. 

"Whj^  of  course,"  smiled  Laura. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  the  whole  household  was 
happily  astir. 

The  youthful  family  met  at  an  early  breakfast  in  the 
little  dining-room,  and  then  separated  and  went  to  their 
chambers  to  adorn  themselves  for  the  bridals. 

A  little  later  in  the  morning  carriages  containing  guests 
bidden  to  the  wedding  began  to  arrive.  The  guests  were 
received  first  by  accomplished  ushers,  who  took  them  to 
handsome  and  convenient  dressing-rooms,  in  which  they 
could  put  the  last  perfecting  touches  on  their  toilets,  after 
which  they  were  ushered  into  the  long  drawing-room,  where 
they  were  received  by  j\Ir.  and  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton. 

Emma  was  beautifully  dressed  for  this  occasion.  She 
wore  a  rich  white  satin,  with  a  point  lace  overskirt,  looped 
up  with  white  roses,  sprinkled  with  small  diamonds,  like 


236  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

dew.  A  wreath  of  the  same  flowers,  bedewed  in  the  same 
way,  rested  on  her  rich  golden  hair.  A  diamond  neck- 
lace and  bracelets  adorned  her  bosom  and  arms.  A  deli- 
cate bouquet  of  white  roses  was  held  in  her  hand.  Dainty 
gloves,  and  so  forth,  of  course  completed  her  toilet. 

The  two  brides  were  dressed  exactly  alike,  in  long- 
trained,  rich  white  silk  dresses,  with  illusion  overdresses 
and  illusion  veils,  white  orange  blossom  wreaths,  pearl 
necklaces  and  bracelet;-^,  and  dainty  white  kid  gloves,  and 
carried  delicate  white  lace  handkerchiefs  and  white  bou- 
quets. 

The  bridesmaids  were  all  dressed  in  a  uniform  of  white 
tarletan,  trained,  with  overdresses  of  the  same,  rose-col- 
ored sashes"  and  bows,  and  rose  wreaths  on  their  heads. 

The  bridegrooms  wore  the  regulation  "invisible  blue'^ 
swallow-tailed  coats  and  pantaloons,  white  satin  vests,  pat- 
ent leather  boots  and  kids.  The  groomsmen  were  got  up 
in  precisely  the  same  ridiculous — I  mean,  fashionable — 
style. 

Now,  reader,  did  you  ever  see  a  double  marriage  cere- 
mony performed. 

If  not,  I  will  tell  you  how  this  was  done. 

The  first  bride  and  groom  were  Mr.  Lyle  and  Miss  Lyt- 
ton.  They  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  semi-circle,  imme- 
diately facing  the  bishop.  The  second  bride  and  groom, 
Mr.  Brent  and  Miss  Coroni,  stood  on  each  side  of  them, 
Mr.  Brent  standing  next  to  Mr.  Lyle,  and  Miss  Coroni 
standing  next  to  Miss  Lytton.  The  six  bridesmaids,  of 
course,  completed  the  semi-circle  on  the  ladies'  side,  and 
the  six  groomsmen  on  the  gentlemen's. 

The  opening  exhortation  was  made  and  the  opening 
prayers  were  offered  for  both  pairs  together. 

Then  the  momentous  questions  were  put  and  answered, 
and  the  marriage  vows  were  made  by  each  pair  separately. 

Each  bride  was  given  away  in  turn  by  Alden  Lytton. 
Finally  the  concluding  prayer  was  offered,  and  the  bene- 
diction pronounced  upon  both. 

It  was  over. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  237 

Congratulations,  tears,  smiles  and  kisses  followed.  A 
half  an  hour  in  pleasant  chatter,  in  which  every  one  talked 
and  no  one  listened,  followed,  and  then  the  doors  of  the 
dining-room  were  thrown  open  and  the  company  was  in- 
vited in  to  breakfast. 

Three  long  tables  stood  parallel  to  each  other,  the  whole 
length  of  the  room,  leaving  only  space  to  pass  around  them. 

Each  table  was  decorated  with  the  most  fragrant  and 
beautiful  flowers,  adorned  with  the  most  elegant  plate, 
china  and  glass,  and  loaded  with  every  delicacy  appropriate 
to  the  occasion. 

But  the  middle  table  was  distinguished  by  the  "wed- 
ding cake"  par  excellence — an  elegant  and  beautiful  piece 
of  art,  formed  like  a  Grecian  temple  of  Hymen,  erected 
upon  a  rock,  adorned  with  beautiful  forms,  birds,  butter- 
flies, flowers,  and  so  forth. 

This  middle  table  was  also  honored  with  the  presence  of 
the  brides  and  bridegrooms,  with  their  attendants  and  im- 
mediate friends,  and  with  that  of  the  officiating  bishop. 

After  the  first  course,  Mr.  Lytton,  who  occupied  a  seat 
at  the  foot  of  this  table,  arose  in  his  place  and  made  the 
usual  little  speech,  and  proposed  the  health  of  both  "happy 
pc.irs." 

This  was  drunk  with  enthusiasm. 

Then  the  health  of  the  bridesmaids  was  proposed  and 
honored. 

Mr.  Brent  proposed  their  accomplished  host  and  hostess. 
And  this  toast  was  honored  with  an  enthusiasm  equal  to 
that  which  had  attended  that  of  the  brides  and  bridegrooms. 

x\n  hour,  every  moment  of  which  was  filled  up  with 
enjoyment,  was  spent  at  the  table,  and  then  the  beautiful 
hostess,  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton,  gave  the  signal,  and  the  ladies 
all  arose  and  withdrew. 

The  two  brides,  accompanied  by  Emma,  went  upstairs 
to  their  rooms  to  change  their  bridal  dresses  for  traveling 
suits,  for  the  two  carriages  were  already  waiting  at  the 
gates  to  convey  them  to  Wendover,  whence  they  were  to 
ta£e  the  train  for  Richmond  en  route  for  the  North. 


238  VICTOR'S  TRTOMPH 

They  were  soon  dressed  in  their  pretty  suits  of  soft  dove- 
colored  silk,  with  hats  and  gloves  of  the  same  shade. 

They  went  down  to  the  drawing-room,  still  accompanied 
by  Emma. 

The  gentlemen  had  just  come  in  from  the  breakfast  table, 
and  all  the  guests  were  assembled  there  to  see  the  happy 
pairs  off  on  their  bridal  tours. 

Emma  had  left  the  room  for  a  few  minutes  to  give  some 
orders. 

Alden  Lytton  had  just  embraced  his  sister,  and  was  hold- 
ing the  hand  of  his  brother-in-law,  wishing  him  all  manner 
of  happiness  and  prosperity,  when  the  door  opened,  and 
Jerome  entered,  saying: 

"There's  a  gemman  out  here  wants  to  see  Mr.  Lytton 
most  particular." 

"Show  him  in,"  said  Alden  Lytton,  smiling,  and  ex- 
pecting to  see  some  guest  who  had  come  too  late  for  the 
wedding. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

A  TERRIBLE  SUMMONS 

The  servant  left  the  room,  and  presently  returned  and 
ushered  in  a  tall,  stout,  gray-haired  man,  whom  all  present 
recognized  as  Mr.  John  Bowlen,  the  deputy  sheriff  of  the 
county. 

The  newcomer  bowed  to  the  assembled  company,  and 
walked  straight  up  to  Alden  Lytton,  who  advanced  to 
meet  him. 

"You  are  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  I  presume,"  said  the  dep- 
uty sheriff. 

"Why,  of  course  I  am,  Mr.  Bowlen.  You  know  that 
quite  well,  don't  you?"  smiled  Alden. 

"I  thought  I  did;  but  I  wished  to  be  quite  sure,  in  a 
case  like  this.  You  are  my  prisoner,  Mr.  Alden  Lytton," 
said  the  deputy  sheriff,  so  calmly  and  distinctly  that  every 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  S39 

one  in  the  room  both  heard  and  understood  the  stranga 
words. 

Yet  no  one  uttered  any  exclamation  of  surprise.  I  think 
they  were  all  too  much  stunned  for  that. 

Alden  Lytton  simply  stared  in  silent  amazement  at  the 
officer,  while  others,  including  the  two  bridegrooms,  gath- 
ered around  him. 

"What  did  you  say  just  now?  Perhaps  I  did  not  hear 
you  aright,"  inquired  Alden,  elevating  his  eyebrows,  for 
there  was  something  that  struck  him  as  unreal,  ludicrous 
and  bordering  upon  the  burlesque  in  the  whole  situation. 

"I  said  that  you  were  my  prisoner,  Mr.  Alden  Lytton," 
answered  the  deputy  sheriff,  gravely.  "I  repeat  that  you 
are  my  prisoner." 

"Prisoner!"  echoed  a  score  of  voices,  giving  expression 
at  length  to  their  amazement. 

"Yes,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  he  is  my  prisoner.  I  think 
I  spoke  plainly  enough ;  and  I  hope  I  shall  have  no  trouble 
in  making  the  arrest,"  answered  the  deputy  sheriff,  who, 
if  he  were  not  behaving  very  rudely,  was  certainly  not 
doing  his  duty  very  courteously. 

"Upon  what  charge,  I  pray  you,  am  I  to  be  arrested?" 
inquired  Mr.  Lytton,  sarcastically,  still  inclined  to  treat 
the  whole  matter  as  a  very  bad  practical  joke. 

"You  may  read  the  warrant,  sir,"  answered  the  officer, 
unfolding  a  document  and  placing  it  in  the  hands  of  Alden 
Lytton,  who,  with  some  anger  and  curiosity,  but  no  anxiety, 
began  to  read  it. 

"What  is  the  matter?  What  does  this  person  want 
here?"  inquired  Emma,  in  surprise,  as  she  entered  the 
room,  came  up  to  the  group,  and  saw  the  intruder. 

"He  has  some  business  with  me,  my  love,"  answered 
her  husband,  controlling  himself  with  a  great  effort,  as  he 
read  the  shameful  charges  embodied  in  the  warrant  con> 
manding  his  arrest.  Then,  still  speaking  with  forced  calm- 
ness, he  said  to  the  deputy  sheriff : 

"I  will  go  with  you  first  into  the  library,  Mr.  Bowlen, 
where  we  can  talk  over  this  matter  with  my  friends." 


240  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

And  turning  to  the  tvro  bridegrooms,  he  inquired : 

"  Can  you  give  me  a  few  minutes  with  this  officer  in  the 
library  ?" 

^'Certainly,"  answered  Mr.  Lyle  and  ]\[r.  Brent,  in  one 
voice. 

''Ladies,  you  will  excuse  us  for  a  few  minutes?"  inquired 
Mr.  Lytton,  smiling  around  upon  the  group. 

"Certainly,"  answered  two  or  three  ladies,  speaking  for 
the  whole  party. 

'^  Follow  me,  if  you  please,  gentlemen,"  said  Alden  Lyt- 
ton, as  he  led  the  way  to  the  library. 

There  the  four  men — Mr.  Lytton,  Mr.  Lyle,  Mr.  Brent 
and  the  sheriff — stood  around  a  small  table,  all  with  anx- 
ious, and  some  with  questioning  looks. 

"Read  that,  and  tell  me  what  you  tliink  of  it,"  said  Mr. 
Lytton,  placing  the  warrant  for  his  arrest  in  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Lyle. 

"Think  of  it!  I  think  it  at  once  the  falsest,  basest  and 
most  absurd  charge  that  ever  was  made  against  an  hon- 
orable man!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lyle,  in  righteous  indigna- 
tion, as  he  threw  the  document  on  the  table. 

"It  is  all  a  diabolical  conspiracy!"  added  Joseph  Brent, 
who  had  read  tlie  warrant  over  the  shoulder  of  his  friend. 

"It  cannot  stand  investigation  for  one  moment,"  said 
Stephen  Lyle. 

"And  the  wretches  who  got  this  up  should  be  severely 
punished!"  exclaimed  Joseph  Brent. 

"Most  severely!"  added  Stephen  Lyle. 

"But  what  show  of  foundation  could  they  have  had  for 
such  a  charge  ?  The  warrant  accuses  you  of  having  ^felon- 
iously intermarried  with  one  Emma  Angela  Cavendish  in 
and  during  the  lifetime  of  your  lawful  wife,  Mary  Lytton, 
now  living  in  this  State!'  Now,  who  the  very  mischief  is 
this  Mary  who  claims  to  be  Lytton?  Oh,  Alden,  my  son, 
what  have  you  been  up  to?"  inquired  Joseph  Brent,  half 
in  mockery,  and  half  in  real  anxiety. 

"Whatever  else  I  may  have  been  'up  to,'  I  certainly  never 
Aave  been  ^up  to'  marrying  two  wives  at  one  time,"  an- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  241 

swered  Alden,  in  the  same  spirit  of  half  banter,  half  pro- 
test. 

^^But  who  is  this  Mary,  self-stvled  Lytton?'' 

"I  know  no  more  than  the  dead." 

"But  are  you  sure  you  never  had  a  slight  flirtation  with 
or  a  platonic  affinity  for  a  Mary,  or  anybody  else  ?" 

"Xever!  Nor  do  I  even  know  a  single  ^Mary'  in  this 
world,  except " 

"Oh,  3'es;  except  whom — except  whom?" 

"Mrs.  Mary  Grey,"  answered  Alden,  gravely,  and  with 
a  certain  new  disturbance  in  his  manner  that  had  not  been 
there  before. 

Mr.  Lyle  brought  his  hand  down  upon  the  table  with 
an  emphatic  thump. 

"That  is  the  woman!-'  he  said,  with  an  air  of  entire 
conviction.  "But  surely  3^ou  never  fell  under  her  baleful 
spell?" 

"Ah!  who  that  ever  knew  her  has  not  fallen  under  that 
baleful  spell?  But  for  the  last  two  years  I  have  been  en- 
tirely disillusioned,"  answered  Alden. 

"Come,  gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  to  hurry  you,  but  really," 
said  Sheriff  Bowlen,  taking  out  his  watch,  "it  is  now  two 
o'clock,  and  we  must  get  on  to  Wendover." 

"Very  well,"  answered  Alden  Lytton,  coldly.  Then, 
turning  to  Mr.  Brent  and  Mr.  Lyle,  he  said : 

"And  you,  my  friends,  must  be  getting  on,  too,  or  you 
will  lose  your  train.  And  then  what  will  become  of  your 
bridal  trips?" 

"I  do  not  care  what  may  become  of  my  bridal  trip;  I 
mean  to  see  you  safe  through  this  abominable  conspiracy, 
for  a  conspiracy  it  certainly  is,  whoever  may  be  the  con- 
spirators," said  Joseph  Brent,  emphatically. 

"  Pooh,  pooh !  some  very  shallow  piece  of  malice,  or  some 
very  poor  practical  joke  upon  me  or  the  magistrate.  The 
wonder  is,  however,  that  any  magistrate  could  be  found  to 
issue  such  a  warrant  as  this,"  said  Alden  Lytton,  making 
light  of  a  matter  which  he  thought  the  slightest  investiga- 
tion must  soon  set  right. 


S12  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

In  the  meantime  Joseph  Brent  and  Stephen  Lyle  spoke 
apart  for  a  few  minutes,  and  then  came  to  Alden  Lytton 
and  said : 

"Look  here.  "We  are  going  with  you  to  the  magistrate's 
office.  We  are  determined  to  see  this  matter  through.  It 
may  be  a  trifle,  or  it  may  not." 

"And  how  about  the  two  pretty  girls  who  are  waiting, 
with  their  hats  on,  to  be  taken  on  their  wedding  tours?" 

"They  can  wait.  A  few  hours,  which  must  decide  this, 
can  make  but  little  difference  to  them.  Your  lovely  lady 
will  give  them  houseroom  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Lyle. 

As  Alden  Lytton  was  about  to  reply,  urging  his  friends 
not  to  delay  their  journey  on  his  account,  he  caught  sight 
of  Emma  standing  in  the  hall,  just  outside  the  library 
door. 

Her  face  was  pale  with  anguish  and  her  hands  were 
clasped  together  as  she  said : 

"Alden!  Alden!  Oh,  Alden!  come  to  me  for  one  mo- 
ment!" 

"Let  me  go  and  speak  to  my  wife.  I  will  not  run  away," 
said  Mr.  Lytton,  sarcastically,  to  the  deputy,  who  was 
close  upon  his  heels. 

And  he  went  up  to  Emma,  and  said,  cheerfully : 

"Do  not  be  alarmed,  love;  there  is  nothing  to  fear." 

"Oh,  Alden,  dearest !  what  is  it?  They  are  talking  about 
a  warrant  and  an  arrest  in  there.  It  is  not  true.  Oh, 
it  cannot  be  true !"  said  the  young  wife,  a  little  incoher- 
ently. 

"There  is  some  mistake,  my  love,  which  would  be  sim- 
ply ludicrous,  if  it  were  not  so  annoying.  I  must  go  to 
Wendover  and  set  it  all  right,"  replied  Mr.  Lytton,  cheer- 
fully. 

"Are  you  certain  it  is  nothing  more  than  a  mistake?" 

"Nothing  more  than  a  mistake,  or  a  jest,  dear  love. 
But  I  must  go  to  Wendover  to  set  it  right." 

"But  what  sort  of  a  mistake  is  it?  What  is  it  all 
about?" 


VICTOR'S  TRTOMPH  S43 

"I  will  explain  it  all  when  I  come  back,  my  wife.  I  do 
not  quite  comprehend  it  yet." 

"How  soon  will  you  be  back?" 

"As  soon  as  ever  this  matter  shall  be  explained.  In 
time  for  tea,  if  possible.  Mr.  Lyle  and  Mr.  Brent  are  going 
with  me.  You  will  take  care  of  the  girls  during  the  few 
hours'  delay  in  their  journey.  There,  love — return  to  your 
guests  and  let  me  go.     This  officer  is  growing  impatient." 

While  Alden  Lytton  was  trying  to  soothe  the  anxiety 
of  his  wife,  Mr.  Brent  and  Mr.  Lyle  had  crossed  to  the 
drawing-room  to  explain  to  their  brides  that  an  unexpected 
event  had  occurred  which  would  delay  their  journey  for 
a  few  hours,  during  which  they  would  remain  as  the  guests 
of  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton. 

And  before  the  young  ladies  could  make  a  comment,  the 
deputy  sheriff,  with  Alden  Lytton  in  custody,  passed  out. 

Then  Stephen  Lyle  and  Joseph  Brent  hurried  out  and 
entered  the  same  carriage  occupied  by  Alden  Lytton  and 
the  sheriff. 

During  the  drive  to  Wendover  the  three  gentlemen  tried 
to  learn  from  the  sheriff  more  particulars  concerning  the 
charges  made  against  Mr.  Alden  Lytton. 

But  the  sheriff  knew  little  or  nothing  concerning  those 
charges  beyond  what  was  embodied  in  the  warrant  that 
authorized  the  arrest. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

THE  INVESTIGATION 

In  due  time  they  reached  the  village,  and  were  driven 
at  once  to  the  office  of  the  magistrate.  Squire  Estep  of 
Spring  Hill  Manor. 

No  rumor  of  the  arrest  had  got  abroad,  and  no  crowd 
was  collected  about  the  office  doors. 

The  sheriff  alighted  first,  and  was  followed  out  by  the 
accused  and  his  two  friends. 


244  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

They  entered  the  office,  where,  just  then,  no  one  was 
present,  except  the  magistrate,  one  clerk  and  two  con- 
stables. 

The  three  gentlemen  bowed  as  they  entered,  and  tiite 
venerable  magistrate  arose  and  acknowledged  their  pres- 
ence by  a  nod,  and  sat  down  again. 

The  sheriff  laid  the  warrant  on  the  table  before  the 
magistrate,  and,  pointing  to  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  said: 

"This  is  the  prisoner,  your  worship." 

One  of  the  constables  placed  chairs,  and  the  gentlemen 
seated  themselves  and  waited. 

"White,"  said  Mr.  Estep,  addressing  one  of  the  con- 
stables, "go  to  the  Reindeer,  and  serve  this  upon  the  gen- 
tleman to  whom  it  is  directed,  and  whom  you  will  find 
there." 

The  constable  took  the  slip  of  paper  from  the  speaker's 
hand,  bowed  and  went  out. 

And  the  three  gentlemen  waited  with  whai  patience  they 
might  command,  while  the  magistrate  drummed  upon  the 
table  witli  his  fingers. 

Presently  the  constable  returned,  ushering  in  two  per- 
sons, in  one  of  whom  Alden  recognized  his  great  rival  at 
the  bar,  Phflip  Desmond.  The  other,  an  elderly  gentle- 
man in  a  clergyman's  dress,  was  a  total  stranger  to  him. 

Both  these  gentlemen  bowed  to  the  magistrate  and  to 
the  accused  and  his  friends,  and  one  of  them — the  clerical 
stranger — came  up  to  Alden,  and,  to  his  great  amazement, 
said: 

"I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Lytton,  in  metting  you  a  second 
time,  to  see  you  here  in  this  position;  sorrier  still  that  I 
am  here  to  bear  testimony  against  you." 

While  he  was  saying  this,  the  magistrate,  who  was  en- 
gaged in  searching  among  some  documents,  drew  forth 
from  them  a  paper  which  seemed  to  be  a  memorandum, 
which  he  from  time  to  time  consulted,  as  he  addressed  the 
accused,  and  said: 

"You  are  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  attorney-at-law,  of  the 
Richmond  bar,  I  believe." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  245 

"I  am,"  answered  Alden  Lytton. 

"Attend,  if  you  please,  to  the  reading  of  this."  said  the 
magistrate,  as  he  comm.enced  and  read  out  aloud  the  war- 
rant upon  which  the  accused  had  been  brought  before  him. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  reading,  Alden  Lytton  bowed 
gravely  and  waited. 

"Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  you  have  heard  that  you  are  charged 
with  having,  on  the  fifteenth  of  February,  of  this  present 
year,  feloniously  intermarried  wdth  Emma  Angela  Caven- 
dish, in  and  during  the  lifetime  of  your  lawful  wife,  Mary 
L3i;ton,  now  living  in  this  State.  Such  marriage,  under 
such  circumstances,  being  a  felony,  punishable  with  im- 
prisonment and  hard  labor  in  the  State  penitentiary  for 

a  term  not  less  than or  more  than years.    What 

have  you  to  say  to  this  charge?"  inquired  the  magistrate. 

Alden  Lytton  with  some  difficulty  controlled  his  indigna- 
tion as  he  answered: 

"It  is  perfectly  true  that  in  last  February  I  married 
Miss  Cavendish  of  Blue  Cliffs.  But  it  is  a  false  and  ma- 
licious slander  that  I  ever  at  any  tim.e  married  any  one 
else.  It  is  only  amazing  to  me,  Mr.  Magistrate,  that  you 
should  have  issued  a  warrant  charging  me  with  so  base 
a  crime.  You  could  not  possibly  have  had  any  grounds 
to  justify  such  a  proceeding." 

"We  shall  see,"  answered  the  magistrate. 

"You  admit  that  you  married  Miss  Cavendish  on  the 
fifteenth  of  last  February?" 

"Certainly  I  do." 

"Then  nothing  remains  but  to  prove  or  to  disprove  the 
statement  that  at  the  time  of  your  marriage  with  Miss 
Cavendish,  at  Blue  Cliffs,  you  had  a  lawful  wife  then  liv- 
ing in  the  city  of  Richmond." 

Alden  Lytton  flushed  to  the  temples  at  hearing  his  true 
wife's  pure  and  noble  name  brought  into  this  dishonoring 
examination.     He  spoke  sternly,  as  he  inquired: 

"Upon  what  grounds  do  you  make  this  charge?  Where 
are  your  witnesses?" 


S46  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

^^Tlie  Eev.  Mr.  Borden  will  please  step  forward,"  said 
the  magistrate. 

The  strange  clergyman  came  up  to  the  table,  and  stood 
there. 

The  magistrate  administered  the  oath  to  this  witness. 

At  the  same  moment  Mr.  Philip  Desmond  took  his  place 
at  the  table  to  conduct  the  examination. 

"Your  name  is  Adam  Borden?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  clerical  witness. 

"You  are  rector  of  St.  Blank's  Episcopal  Church,  Phila- 
delphia ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"You  know  the  accused?" 

"Yes,  sir;  he  is  Mr.  Alden  L3i;ton,"  replied  the  rector, 
bowing  gravely  to  the  prisoner.  Alden  acknowledged  the 
courtesy  by  a  nod,  and  then  waited  with  more  amazement 
and  curiosity  than  anxiety  to  hear  what  sort  of  a  case  they 
would  make  out  against  him  with  the  aid  of  this  man, 
whom  he  never  saw  before,  and  yet  who  claimed  to  know 
him  well. 

"State,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Borden,  what  you  know  of 
Mr.  Lytton  in  regard  to  this  case." 

"In  the  month  of  September  of  last  year,  Mr.  Lytton 
came  to  my  house  in  company  with  a  lady  to  whom  he 
wished  to  be  married  immediately.  I  conducted  the  pair 
into  the  church  and  married  them  there,  in  the  presence 
of  my  sexton  and  his  daughter.  I  registered  the  marriage 
in  the  church  books,  and  gave  a  certificate,  signed  by  my- 
self and  the  witnesses  to  the  marriage.  They  then  left  the 
church  together.  I  had  never  seen  them  before,  and  I 
have  never  seen  them  since  until  to-day,  when  I  see  and 
recognize  Mr.  Lytton,  just  as  I  should  recognize  his  bride 
if  I  should  see  her." 

"Where  is  she?"  inquired  the  magistrate. 

"Your  worship,  the  lady  can  be  produced  at  once,  to  be 
identified  by  the  witness,"  said  Philip  Desmond.  And  he 
wrote  on  a  slip  of  paper  and  handed  it  to  a  constable,  who 
silentlv  left  the  room. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  247 

Meanwhile  Alden  L}i;ton  waited  with  constantly  increas- 
ing curiosity  to  find  out  to  whom  he  had  been  unconsciously 
married  in  the  month  of  September,  and  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia.  It  flashed  upon  him  suddenly  that  he  had 
been  in  Philadelphia  about  the  middle  of  the  last  Sep- 
tember, and  in  company  with  Mary  Grey.  But  he  felt 
certain  that  he  had  never  gone  out  with  her  while  there; 
and  he  waited  with  intensely  curious  interest  to  hear  how 
they  could  possibly  make  out  a  case  against  him. 

Presently  the  door  opened,  and  the  constable  returned, 
bringing  with  hira  a  gracefully  moving  woman,  dressed 
in  black  and  deeply  veiled. 

"Your  worship,  this  is  the  true  wife  of  the  accused,  pro- 
duced here  to  be  identified  by  the  witness,"  said  Mr.  Des- 
mond, taking  the  hand  of  the  lady,  and  leading  her  to  the 
table. 

''Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  raise  your  veil,  ma'am?" 
requested  the  magistrate. 

The  lady  lifted  the  black  veil  and  threw  it  behind  her 
head,  revealing  the  beautiful,  pale  face  of  Mary  Grey. 

Alden  Lytton  had  half  expected  to  see  her,  yet  he  could 
not  forbear  the  exclamation: 

"Mrs.  Grey!" 

"Mrs.  L}i;ton,  if  you  please,  sir.  You  have  taken  from 
me  your  love  and  your  protection,  but  you  cannot  take 
from  me  your  name.  That  is  still  mine.  You  have  taken 
from  me  my  peace  of  heart,  but  you  shall  not  take  from 
me  my  name.  When  you  address  me  again,  call  me  Mrs. 
Lytton,  for  that  is  my  legal  name." 

"It  is  false! — infamously  false!"  began  Alden  Lytton, 
crimsoning  with  indignation. 

But  the  magistrate  stopped  him,  saying : 

"Mr.  Lytton,  this  is  very  unseemly.  If  this  lady  claims 
a  relation  to  you  that  she  cannot  prove,  she  will  do  so  at 
her  own  proper  peril.  Let  us  continue  the  examination, 
and  conduct  it  with  decent  order." 

Alden  Lytton  bowed  to  the  magistrate  and  said — with 
w^hat  calmness  he  could  command : 


S48  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"This  woman — no,  this  libel  upon  womanhood,  who  is 
brought  here  to  be  identified  as  my  wife,  might  have  rather 
been  summoned  to  bear  testimony  against  me,  in  any  false 
charge  she  and  her  co-conspirators  might  have  chosen  to 
set  up,  since  she  is  not,  and  never  has  been  my  wife.  Her 
presence  here  cannot  establish  one  single  point  in  this  in- 
famous accusation.  Yet  I  am  anxious  to  know  how  she 
and  her  confederate,  as  I  am  forced  to  regard  this  witness, 
will  attempt  to  do  so.    Let  the  examination  proceed." 

"Mr.  Borden,  will  you  look  upon  this  lady?"  respect- 
fully demanded  Mr.  Desmond. 

The  reverend  gentleman  put  on  his  spectacles  and  scru- 
tinized the  face  of  Mary  Gre}^  who  met  his  gaze,  and  then 
lowered  her  eyes. 

"Can  you  identify  her  as  the  lady  whom  you  united  in 
marriage  with  Mr.  Alden  Lytton  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Desmond. 

"  Yes,  assuredly  I  can.  She  is  the  lady,  then  called  Mary 
Grey,  whom  I  united  in  marriage  with  that  gentleman,  then 
called  Alden  Lytton,  and  to  whom  I  gave  the  marriage 
certificate,  signed  by  myself  and  two  witnesses.  Those  wit- 
nesses can  be  produced  when  wanted,"  answered  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Borden^  with  nuich  assurance. 

"These  witnesses  are  not  needed  just  now.  But  I  wish 
you  to  examine  this  certificate,  Mr.  Borden,"  said  Mr. 
Desmond,  putting  a  folded  paper  in  the  hands  of  the  min- 
ister. 

The  reverend  gentleman  adjusted  his  spectacles  and  scru- 
tinized it. 

"Is  that  the  certificate  of  marriage  that  you  gave  Mrs. 
Mary  Lytton,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  on  the  day 
that  you  united  thom?"  inquired  Mr.  Desmond. 

"Yes,  sir,  it  is,"  answered  the  minister. 

"Are  you  quite  sure?" 

"  Quite  sure,  sir.  Why,  I  know  the  paper  and  the  printed 
form,  as  well  as  my  own  autograph  and  the  signature  of 
the  two  witnesses,"  declared  the  minister. 

"That  will  do.  You  may  sit  down,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Des- 
mond. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  249 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  would  like  to  ask  that  witness  a 
few  questions  before  he  retires,"  said  Mr.  Lytton. 

"Of  course  that  is  your  right,  sir,"  said  the  magistrate. 

Alden  Lytton  arose  and  confronted  the  witness,  looking 
him  full  in  the  face. 

"You  are  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  I  believe,  Mr.  Bor- 
den ?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  am  rector  of  St.  Blank's  Episcopal  Church 
in  Philadelphia,  as  you  yourself  know  very  well,  having 
there  received  my  ministry  on  the  day  that  you  then  de- 
clared to  be  *the  happiest  of  your  life,'  "  replied  the  min- 
ister. 

"As  Heaven  is  my  witness,  I  never  saw  your  face  be- 
fore I  met  you  in  this  office!  Now  then,  reverend  sir, 
please  to  look  me  in  the  eyes,  while  you  answer  my  next 
questions.  Being  upon  your  oath,  you  declare  that  on  a 
certain  day,  in  the  month  of  last  September,  in  your  parish 
church,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  you  performed  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  between  Alden  Lytton  and  Mary  Grey  ?" 

"I  do  most  solemnly  declare,  upon  my  sacred  oath,  that 
I  did  so,"  answered  Mr.  Borden,  meeting  the  searching 
gaze  of  the  questioner  without  flinching. 

"This  is  the  most  astounding  effrontery!  But  attend 
further,  sir,  if  you  please.  Being  on  your  oath,  you  de- 
clare that  I  am  the  man  and  that  female  is  the  woman 
whom  you  joined  in  marriage,  under  the  names  of  Alden 
Lytton  and  Mary  Grey?" 

"On  my  sacre'd  oath,  I  most  solemnly  declare  that  you 
are  the  man  and  she  is  the  woman  I  then  and  there  united 
together,"  unflinchingly  replied  the  minister. 

For  a  moment  Alden  Lytton  was  mute  with  amazement. 
And  then  he  said : 

"Let  me  look  at  that  paper  that  is  said  to  be  a  certificate 
of  this  marriage." 

Mr.  Desmond  handed  over  the  document. 
Alden  Lytton  read  it,  and  then  recommenced  his  cross- 
examination  of  the  minister. 


5850  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"And  this  is  the  certificate  you  gave  the  pretended 
bride  V^  he  inquired. 

"That  is  the  certificate  I  gave  your  wife,  sir.'' 

"And  you  persist  in  declaring,  under  oath,  that  you 
Bolemnized  a  marriage  between  myself,  Alden  Lytton,  and 
this  woman,  Mary  Grey,  here  present  ?'* 

"I  do  most  solemnly.'' 

"Then,  sir,"  said  Alden  Lytton,  flushing  to  his  temples 
with  fierce  indignation,  "all  I  have  further  to  say  is  this — 
that  you  have  basely  perjured  yourself  to  assist  and  sup- 
port an  infamous  conspiracy !" 

"Sir!  sir!  Mr.  Lytton!"  said  the  magistrate,  in  trepida- 
tion. "This  gentleman  is  a  most  highly  respected  preacher 
of  the  Gospel,  quite  incapable  of  such  a  thing !" 

"I  do  not  care  whether  he  be  priest,  bishop,  pope,  or 
apostle !  He  has  basely  perjured  himself  in  support  of  an 
infamous  conspiracy !" 

"Mr.  Lytton,  Mr.  Lytton,"  said  the  magistrate,  "if  you 
have  anything  to  bring  forward  to  disprove  this  strange 
charge  we  shall  be  glad  to  hear  it.  But  vituperation  is  not 
testimony." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Alden  Lytton,  trying  hard  to  control 
his  raging  passion.  "I  know  it,  and  I  beg  pardon  of  the 
magistrate.  But  this  is  a  foul  conspiracy  against  my  peace, 
honor  and  liberty,  and,  oh !  great  Heaven !  against  the 
honor  of  my  dear,  noble  young  wife!  But  this  vile  con- 
spiracy shall  surely  be  exposed,  and  when  it  is,  by  all  w.y 
hopes  of  Heaven,  no  charity,  no  mercy,  no  consideration 
in  the  universe  shall  prevent  me  from  prosecuting  and  pur- 
suing these  conspirators  to  punishment  with  the  utmost 
rigor  of  the  law !" 

"Mr.  Lytton,  have  you  an3rthing  to  bring  forward  in 
disproof  of  the  charges  made  against  you?"  inquired  the 
magistrate. 

"1^0,  sir;  not  now,  nor  here.  I  must  have  time  to  look 
this  monstrous  falsehood  in  the  face  and  prepare  for  its 
total  destruction." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  251 

''Then,  Mr.  L}i:toii,  I  shall  have  to  send  your  case  to 
court  for  trial.    Have  you  bail?" 

^•Yes,  sir,"  spoke  up  Joseph  Brent,  coming  forward  be- 
fore Alden  Lytton  could  speak,  "he  has  bail.  I  will  enter 
into  bonds  for  my  esteemed  young  friend  Alden  Lytton 
to  any  amount  you  may  please  to  name." 

"The  charge  is  one  of  the  gravest;  the  position  of  the 
parties  involved  in  it  is  high  in  the  social  scale;  the  evi- 
dence already  elicited  is  of  the  most  convincing  and  con- 
victing character;  every  circumstance  would  seem  to  point 
to  the  expediency  of  evading  the  trial  by  flight,  or  any 
other  means.  In  view  of  all  the  circumstances  of  the  case, 
I  feel  it  my  duty  to  demand  a  very  heavy  bail.  I  fix  the 
bail,  therefore,  at  the  sum  of  twenty  thousand  dollars," 
said  the  magistrate. 

"It  might  be  twenty  times  twenty  thousand  dollars,  and 
I  would  enter  it  for  him.  A  man  of  honor,  like  Mr.  L}i;- 
ton,  falsely  accused  of  a  base  crime,  does  not  fly  from  trial. 
On  the  contrary,  he  demands  it  for  his  own  vindication," 
said  Joseph  Brent,  earnestly. 

Alden  L}'tton  turned  and  grasped  his  hand  in  silent 
acknowledgment  of  his  noble  friendship.  Then  addressing 
the  magistrate,  he  said  : 

"I  am  ready  to  enter  into  a  recognizance  with  my 
esteemed  friend  here  for  my  appearance  at  court  to  an- 
swer this  charge — ^this  charge  as  ridiculous  as  it  is  mon- 
strous." 

The  magistrate  nodded,  and  directed  his  clerk  to  fill  out 
the  proper  forms. 

When  these  were  completed  and  signed  the  accused  was 
discharged  from  custody. 

He  bowed  to  the  magistrate,  and  even  to  the  others,  and 
was  about  to  leave  the  office,  followed  by  Mr.  Lyle  and  Mr. 
Brent,  when  Mary  Grey  darted  swiftly  and  silently  to  his 
side,  and  hissed  in  his  ear : 

"I  swore  that  I  would  take  you  in  the  hour  of  your 
greatest  triumph,  and  strike  you  down  to  the  dust  in  dis- 


25a  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

honor !  I  have  done  so !  I  will  send  you  to  the  peniten- 
tiary yet — felon !" 

"I  think  that  you  will  find  yourself  there,  madam,  be- 
fore many  months  have  passed  over  your  head.  There  are 
severe  laws  against  forgery,  perjury  and  conspirae}^"  an- 
swered Alden  L^lton. 

Outside  of  the  office  the  three  gentlemen  consulted  their 
watches.    It  was  now  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

Then  they  looked  about  them. 

They  had  come  to  Wendover  in  the  deputy  sheriff's  car- 
riage. 

That  had  gone.  And  there  was  no  conveyance  waiting 
to  take  them  to  Blue  Cliff  Hall. 

"We  must  go  to  the  old  'Reindeer,'  and  hire  their  liack,'' 
said  Mr.  Lyle. 

"Excuse  me,  Lyle;  let  us  walk  to  your  parsonage  first. 
You  must  give  me  houseroom  there  for  a  few  weeks,  for 
I  do  not  wish  to  stop  at  the  hotel  to  be  stared  at,  and — I 
shall  not  return  to  Blue  Cliffs,  or  enter  the  presence  of  my 
pure  and  noble  young  wife,  until  I  shall  be  cleared  from 
this  foul  charge,''  said  Alden  Lytton,  firmly. 

"N'ot  return  to  Blue  Cliffs!  Why,  Lytton,  you  will 
break  your  wife's  heart  if  you  keep  her  from  you  in  this 
your  day  of  sorrow,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Lyle. 

"Her  heart  is  too  heroic  to  be  easily  broken.  And  a 
little  reflection  will  convince  you  that,  under  the  peculiar 
circumstances  of  this  accusation,  it  is  expedient  that  I 
should  absent  myself  from  her  and  from  her  dwelling  until 
I  shall  be  cleared.  !N^ow  if  the  charge  against  me  were  that 
of  murder,  or  anything  else  but  what  it  is,  my  wife  might 
be  by  my  side.  But  being  what  it  is,  you  must  see  tliat  I 
best  consult  her  dignity  and  delicacy  by  abstaining  from 
seeing  her  until  after  my  acquittal.  No,  I  shall  neither  see, 
speak,  nor  write  to  her  while  I  suffer  under  this  charge." 

"I  see  now  that  you  are  perfectly  right,"  said  Mr.  Lyle. 

"Yes,  that  you  are,"  added  Mr.  Brent,  as  the  three 
walked  out  toward  the  minister's  cottage. 

"I  only  wish  you  to  install  me,  Lyle,  by  explaining  to 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  258 

your  good  old  housekeeper  that  I  am  to  be  an  inmate  of 
the  parsonage  during  your  absence,  so  that  she  may  not 
take  my  presence  as  an  unjustifiable  intrusion,"  said  Alden 
Lytton. 

''She  would  never  do  that  in  any  case,"  answered 
Stephen  L3^1e. 

"  And  when  you  have  installed  me,  I  wish  you  and  Bront 
to  return  to  Blue  Cliffs  and  rejoin  your  brides  at  once. 
And  you,  Lyle,  must  break  this  matter  to  my  dear  Emma 
as  delicately  and  tenderly  as  you  can.  She  does  not  need 
to  be  told  that  I  am  entirely  guiltless  of  the  crime  that  is 
laid  to  my  charge;  for  she  knows  that  I  am  incapable  of 
committing  such  a  one.  IN'or  does  she  require  to  be  assured 
of  my  undying  love  and  faith.  She  is  assured  of  that. 
But  tell  her  to  be  of  good  cheer,  to  bear  this  temporary 
separation  patiently,  and  to  wait  hopefully  our  speedy  meet- 
ing in  happier  days.    Will  you  do  this,  my  friend?" 

'•Most  faithfull}^"  answered  Mr.  Lyle. 

"And  then  I  wish  you  to  start  at  once  upon  your  wed- 
ding tours.  They  must  not  be  further  delayed  on  my  ac- 
count." 

"Look  here,  Lytton,"  said  Stephen  Lyle,  earnestly.  "I 
speak  for  myself  and  also  for  Brent,  who  feels  just  as  I  do. 
We  start  uj)on  no  bridal  tours  until  you  are  out  of  this 
trouble.  We  could  not  leave  you  in  your  trouble.  And 
our  girls,  I  am  sure,  would  not  leave  your  wife  in  her  sor- 
row. So  that  is  all  over.  WTiat  I  have  to  propose  is  this : 
That  I  bring  our  Laura  home  here  to-morrow.  And  that 
we  remain  here  to  keep  you  company,  while  Victor — I  mean 
Brent — and  Electra  stay  for  the  present  at  Blue  Cliffs  as 
the  guests  of  Mrs.  Alden  Lytton." 

"I  hope  you  approve  the  plan.  We  talked  it  over  and 
settled  it  all  while  we  were  ii  the  magistrate's  office  attend- 
ing the  examination,"  added  Joseph  Brent. 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the  gates  of  the  pretty 
cottage. 

Alden  Lytton  stopped,  turned  around  and  grasped  a 


1!54.  VICTOR'S  TRIUIVIPH 

hand  of  eacli  faithful  friend.    For  a  moment  he  could  not 
speak  for  the  strong  emotion  that  choked  him. 

"God  bless  you!"  he  said  at  length,  in  a  half -suffocated 
voice.  "God  bless  you  both!  I  have  surely  found  one 
'precious  jewe?  in  the  head  of  this  'toad' — ^the  priceless 
jewel  of  your  friendship !" 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

HOW  EMMA  HEAED  THE  NEWS 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  that  night  when  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle 
and  Mr.  Brent  reached  Blue  Cliffs,  on  their  return  from 
Wendover. 

Of  course  all  the  guests  of  the  bridal  reception  had  long 
since  gone  away.  The  house  was  closed,  and  all  tlie  win- 
dows were  dark  except  those  of  the  library,  where  the 
gentlemen  found  the  two  brides  and  their  hostess  sitting 
up,  and  awaiting  their  return. 

"Where  is  Alden?  Is  he  not  with  you?"  anxiously  in- 
quired Emma,  coming  to  meet  them. 

"Our  friend  might  certainly  have  come  back  with  us  if 
he  had  chosen  to  do  so ;  but  he  deemed  it  better  to  remain 
at  Wendover  to-night,  and  we  agreed  with  him.  He  is  at 
my  house,"  answered  Mr.  L3-le. 

"You  have  something  painful  to  tell  me.  I  beg  you  will 
tell  it  at  once,"  said  Emma,  turning  very  pale,  but  con- 
trolling herself  perfectly  and  speaking  with  calmness. 

"Something  ridiculous,  if  it  were  not  so  outrageous,  I 
should  say,  dear  Mrs.  Lytton.  Is  there  a  light  in  the  par- 
lor?" 

"Yes.'' 

"Then  come  with  me  there,  and  I  will  tell  you  all  about 
it,"  answered  Mr.  Lyle,  speaking  cheerfully,  as  he  offered 
his  arm  to  Emma. 

They  left  the  room  together  and  went  to  the  parlor, 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  255 

where  a  lamp  was  burning  low  and  shedding  a  dim  light 
around. 

Mr.  Lyle  led  his  hostess  to  a  sofa,  where  he  sat  down 
beside  her. 

x\nd  then  and  there  he  told  her  the  whole  history  of  the 
charge  that  had  been  brought  against  her  husband,  as  it 
came  out  upon  the  preliminary  examination. 

Emma  listened  in  unspeakable  grief,  horror,  amazement 
and  mortification.  Yet  with  all  these  strong  emotions 
struggling  in  her  bosom,  she  controlled  herself  so  far  as 
to  preserve  her  outward  composure  and  answer  with  calm- 
Jiess. 

"And  Mary  Grey  claims  to  be  his  wife?  I  should  think 
the  woman  were  raving  mad,  but  for  the  plausible  testi- 
mony she  has  managed  to  bring  together.  As  it  is,  I  am 
forced  to  look  upon  this  in  the  same  light  that  you  do,  as 
a  base  conspiracy,  in  which  she  has  found  some  skilful  con- 
federates. Of  course,  it  must  be  only  the  embarrassment 
and  mortification  of  a  few  days,  and  then  the  whole  plot 
must  be  exposed.  Such  a  plot  cannot,  certainly,  bear  a 
thorough  investigation,"  she  said. 

But  though  she  spoke  so  confidently,  and  believed  all 
that  she  said,  yet  her  face  continued  deadly  pale,  and  her 
hands  were  clutched  closely  together  on  her  lap. 

Then  Mr.  Lyle  explained  to  her  the  delicate  motives 
that  governed  her  husband  in  deciding  him  to  remain  at 
the  Wendover  parsonage,  and  to  absent  himself  entirely 
from  Blue  Cliffs  and  from  her,  until  this  charge  should 
be  disproved. 

Emma  flushed  and  paled  again,  and  clutched  her  hands 
a  little  closer,  but  made  no  comment  yet.  She  seemed  to 
wait  for  Mr.  Lyle  to  proceed. 

"He  says,  my  child,  and  he  speaks  rightly,  that  if  th« 
accusation  against  him  was  of  almost  any  other  felony  than 
what  it  is,  you  should  be  with  him  through  all  he  might 
have  to  endure.  But  the  accusation  being  what  it  is,  every 
consideration  for  your  dignity  and  delicacy  constrains  Mm 
to  absent  himself  from  you,  until  his  fair  name  shall  be 


256  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

cleared.  He  therefore  implores  you  b}^  me,  not  to  attempt 
to  see  him,  or  even  to  write  to  him;  but  to  let  ail  your 
communications  with  him  be  verbal  ones,  sent  through  me. 
And  I,  on  my  part,  my  child,  promise  to  fulfill  my  duties 
to  you  both  faithfully  and  loyally,"  said  Mr.  Lyle. 

^*I  must  comply,"  answered  Emma,  in  a  low,  restrained 
voice,  that  would  have  faltered  and  broken  had  she  nc^ 
possessed  and  exercised  such  great  power  of  self-control. 
"I  must  comply,  although  this  is  the  very  hardest  requisi- 
tion that  my  dear  husband  could  make  of  me — to  abandon 
him  in  this  hour  of  his  greatest  need !  I  must  comply, 
because  I  know  that  it  is  right.  Our  mutual  honor  de- 
mands this  temporary  separation,  for,  of  course,  it  will  be 
but  temporary." 

"Very  temporary,  and  lightened  by  frequent  news  of 
each  other  through  me,"  replied  Mr.  Lyle. 

"But  that  woman,  Mary  Grey!  The  amazing  wicked- 
ness of  that  woman!"  said  Emma,  Tvith  a  shudder,  and 
almost  under  her  breath. 

"My  dear,"  said  the  minister,  gravely,  "you  knew  Mrs. 
Grey  intimately  for  several  years.  Had  you  really  confi- 
dence in  her  during  all  that  time  ?" 

"N-no.  I  often  doubted  and  suspected  her.  And  I 
blamed  myself  for  such  doubts  and  suspicions,  and  com- 
pelled myself  to  think  the  best  of  her  and  do  the  best  for 
her,  for  my  father's  sake,  because  he  loved  her.  Oh!  the 
astounding  wickedness  of  that  woman,  as  it  has  developed 
itself  in  this  conspiracy  against  us!  But  she  must  have 
had  confederates.  The  minister  who  professes  to  have  mar- 
ried her  to  Mr.  Lytton,  and  who  gave  her  a  marriage  cer- 
tificate to  that  effect ! — may  he  not  have  been  a  confederate 
of  hers  ?  May  he  not  have  taken  a  false  oath,  made  a  false 
statement  and  given  a  false  certificate  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  my  child !  a  thousand  times  no !  The 
character  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Borden  is  far  above  any  such 
suspicion,"  answered  Mr.  Lyle. 

"Then  he  must  himself  have  been  deceived.  Some  one 
must  have  impersonated  Mr.  Lytton  at  that  ceremony — 


VICTUK'S  TRIUMPH  257 

some  one  who  has  some  resemblance  to  him — and  utterly 
deceived  the  minister,"  said  Emma;  and  she  paused  for  a 
few  moments,  with  her  head  upon  her  hand,  as  in  hard, 
deep  thought ;  and  then  a  sudden  flash  of  intelligence,  like 
lightning,  lit  up  her  face,  as  she  exclaimed,  "I  know  who 
it  was!  I  know  all  about  it  now.  Oh,  Mr.  Lyle,  I  shall 
save  my  dear  husband's  honor  from  a  breath  of  reproach, 
because  I  have  found  out  all  about  it  now." 

"My   dear  child "  began  the  good  minister,  who 

thought  that  she  looked  a  little  wild. 

But  Emma  vehemently  interrupted  him. 

"It  was  Craven  K3rte  who  personated  Mr.  Lytton  at  that 
marriage!  Oh,  I  am  sure  it  was!  I  am  as  sure  of  it  as 
I  am  of  being  alive  at  this  time.  Oh,  Mr.  Lyle,  don't  you 
remember  the  wonderful  personal  resemblance  between 
Craven  K}i;e  and  Mr.  Lytton  ?  They  were  counterparts  of 
each  other,  except  in  one  small  particular.  Craven  Kyte 
had  a  black  mole  on  his  chin.  And  he  was  deeply  in  love 
with  Mary  Grey;  and  she  could  have  done  whatever  she 
pleased  with  him.  She  could  have  persuaded  him  to  per- 
sonate Alden  Lytton  at  that  marriage  ceremony;  and  I  am 
sure  that  she  has  done  so.  I  feel  a  positive  conviction  that 
he  is  the  man." 

"The  explanation  of  the  mystery  is  a  very  plausible  one, 
indeed,"  gravely  mused  the  minister,  with  his  bearded  chin 
in  his  hand. 

"It  is  the  true  and  only  one,"  said  Emma,  emphatically. 

"Where  is  the  young  man  now?  Has  h**  been  heard 
from  yet  ?"  inquired  Mr.  Lyle. 

"Xo;  I  believe  not.  He  is  still  missing.  He  has  been 
missing  ever  since  last  September,  when  he  wei?t  away  for 
a  holiday.  That  is  another  link  in  the  chain  of  circum- 
stantial evidence  against  him,  for  it  was  in  September  that 
this  marriage  was  performed." 

"This  looks  more  and  more  likely,"  mused  the  minister. 

"Mr.  Lyle,  this  is  what  must  be  done  immediately !  Ad- 
vertisements must  be  inserted  in  all  the  principal  news- 
papers in  the  principal  cities  of  the  United  States  and 


258  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Canada,  offering  great  inducements  to  Craven  Kjie,  late 
of  Wendover,  to  return  to  his  home,  or  to  communicate 
with  his  friends." 

"Yes;  that  must  be  done  immediately,  even  upon  the 
bare  chance  of  his  being  the  man  we  want.  But  if  he  be 
the  man,  there  is  little  likelihood  of  his  making  his  ap- 
pearance, or  even  answering  the  advertisement.  If  he  be 
the  man,  he  knows  that  he  has  committed  a  misdemeanor 
in  personating  Mr.  L}i;ton  under  these  circumstances. 
And  he  will  not  be  likely  to  place  himself  within  reach  of 
justice." 

"Then  we  must  also  supplement  these  advertisements 
with  others,  offering  large  rewards  for  any  information  as 
to  the  present  residence  of  the  missing  man.  And  this  must 
be  done  at  once." 

"Certainly,  if  it  is  done  at  all.  The  man  must  be  found 
and  produced  in  court,  to  be  confronted  with  Mr.  Borden 
beside  Alden  Lytton.  My  dear  child,  your  woman's  wit 
may  have  saved  your  husband." 

"Heaven  grant  it!"  said  Emma,  fervently. 

Next  Mr.  Lyle  informed  her  of  the  proposed  arrange- 
ment by  which  the  two  newly  married  pairs  were  to  give 
up  their  bridal  tour  for  the  present,  while  two  of  them, 
himself  and  Laura,  should  go  home  to  the  Wendover  par- 
sonage to  stay  with  Alden  Lytton,  and  the  other  two, 
Joseph  Brent  and  Electrp..  should  remain  at  Blue  Cliffs, 
in  attend anrr,  upon  Emma. 

"EmiXM  13  not  a  queen,  that  sbe  should  require  ladies 
and  gentlemen  in  waiting ;  but  she  will  be  very  much  com- 
forted by  the  presence  of  her  dear  friends,  Joseph  and 
Electra,  said  the  young  wife,  with  a  sad  smile,  as  she  arose 
to  return  to  her  guests. 

Later  in  the  STenfng  Laura  and  Electra  were  informed 
about  the  state  of  affairs. 

Their  amazement  was  unmeasured  and  unutterable. 

But  they  at  once  set  down  the  criminal  conspiracy  of 
Mary  Grey  against  Mr.  and  Mrs.  L)rtton  to  its  right  mo- 
tive— malignant  hatred  and  revenge  for  scorned  love. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  259 

The  two  young  brides  most  willingly  gave  np  their  tours, 
and  consented  to  stay  home  with  their  friends  during  the 
time  of  trial. 

The  next  morning,  therefore,  Mr.  Lyle  took  his  young 
wife  and  returned  with  her  to  the  Wendover  parsonage, 
where  he  comforted  the  soul  of  Alden  Lytton  by  report- 
ing to  him  all  that  had  passed  between  himself  and  Emma. 

"She  keeps  up  bravely,  heroically.  She  is  worthy  to  be 
a  hero's  wife !"  said  the  minister,  warmly. 

"  She  is !  she  is  !  "She  comes  of  a  heroic  race ;  therefore 
the  deeper  guilt  of  those  who  seek  to  bring  dishonor  upon 
her !"  groaned  Alden  Lytton. 

Then  Mr.  Lyle  said: 

"Her  feminine  intuition  discovered  what  we  men,  with 
all  our  logic,  would  never  have  learned,  that  is  to  say,  who 
it  was  that  personated  you  at  that  false  marriage." 

"Indeed!    Who  was  it?" 

"Craven  K}i;e,"  answered  Mr.  Lyle.  And  then  he  told 
Alden  Lytton  all  that  had  been  said  between  himself  and 
Emma  on  that  subject. 

"I  feel  sure  that  her  suspicions  are  correct,"  he  added. 

"I  think  it  highly  probable  that  they  are.  Now  there 
are  two  or  three  things  that  must  be  done  this  morning: 
First,  those  advertisements  for  the  missing  man  must  be 
written  out  and  distributed  all  over  the  country.  Sec- 
ondly, a  messenger  must  be  dispatched  to  Philadelphia  to 
question  the  people  at  the  Blank  House  as  to  whether  any 
of  them  entered  my  room  and  saw  me  sleeping  there  dur- 
ing the  hours  of  eleven  a.  m.  and  one  p.  m.,  on  the  fif- 
teenth of  September  of  last  year,  when  I  was  said  to  have 
married  that  woman.  And  also  to  search  the  registers  of 
that  date  of  all  the  hotels  in  the  city  for  the  name  of 
Craven  Kyte." 

"To  get  up  evidence  for  the  defense?" 

"Certainly,  to  get  up  evidence  for  the  defense." 

"Have  you  thought  of  employing  counsel?" 

"Certainly.  Berners  and  Denham  are  as  good  men  as 
any  I  can  find.    I  have  sent  a  note  to  ask  Berners  to  come 


260  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

here  to  see  me  to-day.  While  waiting  for  him,  you  and 
I  can  write  out  those  advertisements,"  said  Alden  Lytton. 

That  same  day  an  experienced  detective  was  found  and 
dispatched  to  Philadelphia  to  hunt  up  evidence  for  the 
defense. 

And  that  evening  advertisements  were  sent  by  mail,  to 
be  scattered  all  over  the  country. 

But  some  days  after  this,  Mary  Grey,  who  was  stopping 
at  the  "Reindeer,"  saw  one  of  these  advertisements  in  & 
Richmond  paper,  and  smiled  in  triumpli. 

"They  have  scented  out  a  part  of  the  truth,"  she  said. 
"Tliey  have  more  sharpness  than  I  gave  them  credit  for 
but  they  cannot  follow  the  scent !  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  They  may 
advertise  from  now  till  doomsday;  but  they  will  never  get 
a  response  from  him.  Let  them  rake  the  Susquehanna  if 
they  can.  Perhaps,  deep  in  its  mud,  they  may  find  what 
the  fishes  have  left  of  him !"  she  said,  with  a  sneer. 

But  even  as  she  spoke  these  wicked  words,  she  shud- 
dered with  horror. 

Meanwhile  every  day  Mr.  Lytton  and  his  counsel, 
^lessrs.  Berners  and  Denham,  consulted  together  concern- 
ing the  proper  line  of  defense  to  be  taken  by  them. 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  that  Messrs  Berners  and 
Denham  felt  perfectly  sure  of  the  absolute  guiltlessness 
of  their  client,  and  quite  sanguine  in  their  expectations 
both  of  a  full  acquittal  of  the  falsely  accused,  and  of  a 
thorough  exposure  and  successful  prosecution  of  the  con- 
spirators. 

But  as  time  passed  and  no  answer  came  to  the  adver- 
tisements for  the  missing  man,  both  counsel  and  client  be- 
gan to  grow  anxious. 

The  detective  who  had  been  sent  to  Philadelphia  to  look 
up  evidence  for  the  defense,  returned  to  Wendover  with 
such  meager  intelligence  that  the  hopes  of  all  concerned 
sank  very  low. 

So  overwhelming  was  the  evidence  against  the  accused 
that  to  gain  an  acquittal  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  either 


VICTOR'S  TRIUiMPH  261 

to  prove  an  alibi,  or  to  find  the  man  who  had  personated 
Mr.  Lytton  at  the  marriage  ceremony. 

But  neither ,  of  these  most  important  objects  had  been 
yet  effected. 

No  one  had  been  found  in  Philadelphia,  or  elsewhere, 
^vho  had  set  eyes  on  Mr.  Alden  Lytton  between  the  hours 
of  eleven  and  one,  on  the  fifteenth  of  the  last  September, 
at  which  time  his  marriage  with  Mary  Grey  was  alleged  to 
have  taken  place. 

And  no  one  had  answered  the  advertisements  for  Craven 
Kyte. 

And  what  com.plicated  this  part  of  the  case  still  more 
was  the  circumstance  that  Mr.  Bastiennelli,  the  senior 
partner  of  the  firm  in  which  poor  Craven  K3^te  was  once 
the  youngest  "Co.,"  was  absent  in  Europe,  where  he  had 
been  on  a  visit  to  his  relations  for  the  last  two  months; 
so  that  he  could  not  be  consulted  as  to  the  probable  where- 
abouts jf  his  former  partner. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Lyle  and  his  young  bride  Laura  did  all 
that  they  possibly  could  to  comfort  and  cheer  their  unfor- 
tunate brother  and  sister. 

One  or  the  other  of  them  went  every  day  to  Blue  Cliffs, 
to  carry  to  Emma  the  encouraging  news  of  Alden's  con- 
tinued good  health  and  spirits,  and  to  bring  back  to  him 
the  glad  tidings  of  Emma's  heroic  patience  and  cheerful- 
ness. 

And  in  this  manner  the  tedious  weeks  passed  slowly 
away,  and  brought  the  day  of  the  trial. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

THE  TRIAL 

It  was  a  glorious  moruing  in  June.    All  nature  seemed 

exulting  in  the  young  summer's  splendor. 

Ard  p.Ev  strrinfcer  arrivi"i<^  nt  V  '^^  town  of  Wendover  that 


£62  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

day  would  have  supposed  tliat  the  population  of  the  whole 
surrounding  country  were  taking  advantage  of  the  delight- 
ful weather  to  hold  a  gay  festival  there. 

The  whole  town  was  full  of  visitors,  come  to  the  great 
trial. 

Mr.  Hezekiah  Greenfield,  of  the  Reindeer  Hotel,  was 
beside  himself  under  the  unusual  press  of  business,  and 
his  waiters  and  hostlers  were  nearly  crazy  amid  the  con- 
fusion of  arrivals,  and  the  conflicting  claims  made  all  at 
once  upon  their  attention  and  services. 

The  scene  around  the  courthouse  was  even  more  tumul- 
tuous. 

The  courthouse  was  a  plain,  oblong,  two-story  edifice, 
built  of  the  red  stone  that  abounded  in  the  mountain  quar- 
ries of  that  district.  It  stood  in  a  large  yard  shaded  with 
many  trees,  and  surrounded  by  a  high  stone  wall. 

In  the  rear  end  of  this  yard  stood  the  county  prison. 

The  courtyard  was  filled  with  curious  people,  v  ho  were 
pressing  toward  the  doors  of  the  courthouse,  trying  to 
effect  an  entrance  into  the  building,  which  was  already 
crammed  to  suffocation. 

In  the  minister's  cottage  parlor,  at  the  same  early  hour, 
were  assembled  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle,  honest  John  Lytton 
and  his  shock-headed  son  Charley,  Joseph  Brent,  Alden 
Lytton,  and  his  counsel,  Messrs.  Berners  and  Denham. 

John  Lytton  had  arrived  only  that  morning.  And  on 
meeting  his  nephew,  had  taken  him  by  both  hands,  ex- 
claiming : 

"You  know,  Aldy,  my  boy,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  don't 
believe  the  first  word  of  all  this.  'Cause  it's  impossible, 
you  know,  for  any  man  of  our  race  to  do  anything  unbe- 
coming of  a  Lytton  and  a  gentleman.  And  I  think  a  man's 
family  ought  to  stand  by  him  in  a  case  like  tliis.  So  I  not 
only  came  myself,  but  I  fetched  Charley,  and  if  I  had  had 
another  son,  I  would  a  fetched  him  too.  I  don't  know  but 
I'd  fetched  your  aunt  Kitty  and  the  girls,  only,  as  I  said 
to  them,  a  trial  of  this  sort  an't  no  proper  place  for  ladies. 
What  do  you  think  yourself?'' 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  ^63 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  Uncle  John.  And  I  feel  really 
very  deeply  touched  by  the  proof  of  confidence  and  affec- 
tion to  give  me  in  coming  here  yourself,"  said  Alden, 
earnestly,  pressing  and  shaking  the  honest  hands  that  held 
his  own. 

And  at  that  moment  Mr.  Lyle  placed  in  Mr.  Alden  Lyt- 
ton's  hands  a  little  note  from  Emma,  saying : 

"She  gave  it  to  me  yesterday,  with  the  request  that  I 
would  hand  it  to  you  to-day." 

Alden  unfolded  and  read  it. 

It  was  only  a  brief  note,  assuring  him  of  her  unwaver- 
ing faith  in  Heaven  and  in  himself,  and  her  perfect  con- 
fidence, notwithstanding  the  present  dark  aspect  of  affairs, 
in  his  speedy  and  honorable  acquittal. 

He  pressed  this  little  note  to  his  lips,  and  placed  it  near 
his  heart. 

And  then  Mr.  Lyle  told  him  that  it  wanted  but  a  quar- 
ter to  ten,  the  carriages  were  at  the  door,  and  it  was  time 
to  start  for  the  courthouse. 

Mr.  Lytton  nodded  assent,  and  they  all  went  out. 

There  were  two  carriages  before  the  cottage  gates. 

Into  the  first  went  the  Rev.  Mr.  Lyle,  Mr.  Alden  Lytton, 
and  his  counsel,  Messrs.  Berners  and  Denham. 

In  the  second  went  Mr.  John  Lytton,  his  son  Charley, 
and  Mr.  Joseph  Brent. 

The  courthouse  was  situated  at  the  opposite  end  of  the 
town  from  the  parsonage,  and  was  about  a  mile  distant. 
The  gentlemen  of  this  party  might  easily  have  walked  the 
distance,  but  preferred  to  ride,  in  order  to  avoid  the  curious 
gaze  of  strangers  who  had  flocked  into  the  town. 

A  rapid  drive  of  twenty  minutes'  duration  brought  them 
to  the  courthouse. 

The  Eev.  Mr.  Lyle  alighted  first,  and  called  a  constable 
to  clear  the  way  for  the  party  to  pass  into  the  courtroom. 

The  accused,  Alden  Lytton,  was  accommodated  with  a 
chair  in  front  of  the  bench,  and  near  him  sat  his  relatives, 
John  and  Charles  Lytton ;  his  friends,  Mr.  Lyle  and  Mr. 
Brent,  and  his  counsel,  Messrs.  Berners  and  Denham. 


264.  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Judge  Burlington  sat  upon  the  bench  to  try  the  case. 

After  the  tedious  preliminaries  were  over,  the  accused 
was  arraigned  with  the  usual  formula  and — not  without 
some  natural  scorn  and  indignation,  for  he  was  still  too 
youthful  to  have  learned  much  self-control — answered: 

"Not  guilty,  of  course." 

As  if  he  would  have  added,  "You  know  that  quite  as 
well  as  I  myself,  and  everybody  else  does." 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

A  HOST  OF  WITNESSES 

Mr.  Martindale,  State's  attorney,  opened  the  case  for 
the  prosecution  with  a  few  brief  but  very  severe  remarks 
upon  the  baseness  of  the  crime  with  which  the  prisoner 
stood  charged,  and  then  called  his  first  witness: 

"The  Rev.  Adam  Borden." 

Mr.  Borden  took  the  stand  and  testified  to  having  per- 
formed the  marriage  ceremony  between  Alden  Lytton  and 
Mary  Grey  on  the  morning  of  the  fifteenth  of  the  preced- 
ing September,  at  his  own  parish  church,  in  the  city  of 
Philadelphia. 

He  was  strictly  cross-examined  by  Mr.  Berners,  but  his 
testimony  only  came  out  the  clearer  from  the  ordeal. 

John  Martin,  sexton  of  the  church,  and  Sarah  Martin, 
his  daughter,  were  successively  examined,  and  testified  to 
having  witnessed  the  marriage  ceremony  between  the  par- 
ties in  question. 

They  also  were  cross-examined  by  Mr.  Berners,  with- 
out detriment  to  their  testimony. 

"Mrs.  Mary  Lytton,"  was  then  called  upon  to  come 
forward  for  identification. 

And  Mary  Grey,  dressed  in  deep  mourning  and  closely 
veiled,  came  up,  leaning  heavily  on  the  arm  of  Mr.  Philip 
Desmond,  assistant  counsel  for  the  prosecution. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  265 

At  the  request  of  counsel,  she  drew  aside  lier  veil,  reveal- 
ing a  face  so  ghastly  pale  that  all  who  gazed  upon  it  shud- 
dered. 

Alden  Lytton  turned  to  look  at  her,  in  order  to  catch 
her  eyes,  but  they  were  fixed  upon  the  ground,  and  never 
once  raised. 

Even  he,  so  deeply  injured  by  her  diabolical  arts,  turned 
away  from  her  with  shuddering  pity. 

^'The  woman  is  at  once  going  mad  and  dying,"  he  said 
to  himself. 

Mary  Grey  was  then  fully  identified  by  the  three  wit- 
nesses as  the  woman  who  was  at  the  time  and  place  speci- 
fied married  to  Mr.  Alden  Lytton. 

But  she  had  scarcely  stood  long  enough  to  be  sworn  to, 
when  her  white  face  turned  blue,  and  she  fell  swooning 
into  the  arms  of  Philip  Desmond. 

She  was  borne  out  into  the  sheriff's  room,  amid  the  sym- 
pathetic murmurs  of  the  audience. 

Mr.  Martindale  then  produced  and  read  the  marriage 
certificate,  and  recalled  the  Eev.  Mr.  Borden,  who  acknowl- 
edged it  as  his  own  document,  presented  to  "Mrs.  Mary 
Lytton"  immediately  after  the  marriage  ceremony  had  been 
concluded. 

The  State's  attorney  next  produced  certain  letters,  pur- 
porting to  have  been  written  by  Mr.  Alden  Lytton  to  Mrs. 
Mary  Grey  during  the  period  of  his  courtship. 

These  letters,  he  said,  were  important  as  corroborative 
evidence,  and  he  begged  leave  to  read  them  to  the  jury. 

He  then  commenced  with  the  correspondence  from  the 
earliest  date. 

And  there  in  open  court  he  read  aloud,  one  after  the 
other,  all  those  fond,  foolish,  impassioned  letters  that  the 
love-sick  lad,  i\.lden  Lytton,  had  written  to  the  artful 
woman  who  had  beguiled  him  in  the  earliest  days  of  their 
acquaintance,  and  before  he  had  discovered  her  deep  de- 
pravity. 

Tliis  was  the  severest  ordeal  Alden  Lytton  had  to  bear. 
For  he  knew  he  had  written  these  foolish  letters  in  his 


26G  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

romantic  boyhocMi,  and  in  his  manhood  he  felt  heartily 
ashamed  of  them.  Under  any  circumstances  he  would  have 
been  heartily  ashamed  of  them.  His  ears  tingled  and  his 
face  burned  to  hear  them  read  aloud  to  judge,  jury  and 
gaping  crowd. 

And  then  and  there  he  registered  a  vow  never,  never,, 
never  to  write  another  gushing  love  letter  so  long  as  he 
should  live  in  this  world,  no,  not  even  to  his  own  dear  wife. 

When  the  last  terrible  letter  was  finished  he  felt  as  much 
relieved  as  if  he  had  been  unbound  from  the  rack. 

But  his  relief  was  soon  superseded  by  the  utmost  aston- 
ishment when  Mr.  Martindale  took  up  another  parcel,  say- 
ing: 

"The  letters  that  I  have  just  read,  your  honor,  and  gen- 
tlemen of  the  jury,  were,  as  you  have  heard,  written  from 
the  University  of  Charlottesville,  some  years  ago.  Those 
that  I  am  about  to  read  to  3^ou  were  written  from  Wen- 
dover  last  year,  in  the  few  weeks  preceding  the  marriage 
of  the  prisoner  with  Mary  Grey." 

And  so  saying,  the  State's  attorney  proceeded  to  read, 
one  after  the  other,  all  those  forged  letters  which  had  been 
executed  with  inimitable  skill  by  Mary  Grey  herself,  and 
mailed  from  Wendover  by  her  unconscious  confederate. 
Craven  Kyte. 

These  counterfeits  were  even  fonder,  more  foolish  and 
more  impassioned  than  the  real  ones,  and  every  letter 
pressed  speedy  marriage,  until  the  last  one,  which  actually 
arranged  the  mode  and  manner  of  proceeding. 

During  the  reading  of  the  final  letter,  Mr.  Alden  Lytton 
beckoned  his  counsel,  who  approached  him. 

"I  acknowledge  the  first  batch  of  folly,  written  from 
Charlottesville,  when  I  was  a  boy  of  eighteen  or  nineteen," 
said  Alden,  between  a  laugh  and  a  blush. 

"Every  man  has  been  a  boy,  and  a  fool,  at  least  once  in 
his  life.  I  know  I  have;  and  I  would  much  rather  be 
hanged  than  have  my  letters  read,"  laughingly  replied  Mr. 
Berners. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUIMPH  267 

"But,  by  all  my  hopes  of  heaven,  I  never  wrote  one  of 
those  infernal  letters  of  the  last  parcel,"  added  Mr.  Lytton. 

"I  never  supposed  you  did.  It  will,  no  doubt,  be  pos- 
sible to  prove  them  to  be  forgeries.  If  we  can  do  that, 
the  whole  prosecution  breaks  down,"  replied  Mr.  Berners. 

"They  are  forgeries,"  said  Alden  Lytton,  indignantly. 

But  that  was  more  easily  said  than  established. 

A  score  of  witnesses,  one  after  the  other,  were  called, 
and  swore  to  the  handwriting  of  Mr.  Alden  Lytton  in 
those  letters. 

Other  witnesses  of  less  importance  followed — ^waiters 
and  chambermaids  from  the  Blank  House,  Philadelphia, 
who  swore  to  the  fact  that  Mr.  Lytton  and  Mrs.  Grey  had 
taken  rooms  together  at  that  house  on  the  fourteenth  of 
September,  and  had  left  it  on  the  afternoon  of  the  fifteenth. 

The  prosecv  dug  attorney  said  that  he  might  call  other 
witnesses  who  had  seen  the  parties  meet  as  by  appointment 
at  the  railway  station  at  Forestville,  and  proceed  thence  to 
Richmond,  and  others  again  who  had  seen  them  together 
in  the  Richmond  and  AVashington  steamer;  but  he  would 
forbear;  for  he  felt  convinced  that  the  overwhelming 
amount  of  testimony  already  given  was  more  than  sufficient 
to  esl  iblish  the  first  marriage.  The  second  and  felonous 
marriage  was  a  notorious  fact,  but,  for  form's  sake,  it  must 
b«  proved  before  the  jury. 

And  then,  to  their  extreme  disgust,  the  Rev.  Stephen 
Lyle,  Joseph  Brent  and  John  Lytton  were  successively 
called  to  testify  that  they  had  all  been  present  and  wit- 
nessed the  marriage  of  the  accused,  Alden  Lytton,  and 
Emma  Angela  Cavendish,  on  the  fifteenth  of  the  last  Feb- 
ruary, at  Blue  Cliff  Hall,  in  this  county  and  State. 

John  Lytton,  who  was  the  last  of  the  three  put  upon  the 
stand,  came  very  near  being  committed  for  contempt  of 
court  by  saying,  "Yes,  he  had  witnessed  his  nephew's,  Mr. 
Alden  Lytton's,  marriage  with  Miss  Cavendish,  which  he 
had  a  perfect  right  to  marry  her,  never  having  been  mar- 
ried before.  None  of  the  ^Lyttonses'  were  capable  of  any 
such  burglarious,  bigamarious  conduct  as  they  accused  his 


268  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

nephew  of.  Everybody  knew  the  ^Lyttonses.'  The  *Lyt- 
tonses'  were  none  of  your  upstart  judges" — ^this  was  aimed 
directly  at  the  bench.  "The  'Lyttonses'  was  as  old  as  the 
flood,  for  that  matter"  and  so  forth,  and  so  forth. 

The  witness  was  not  committed  for  this  offense,  but 
merely  reminded  that  all  this  was  very  irrelevant  to  the 
matter  in  question,  and  ordered  to  sit  down. 

He  obeyed,  growling  at  the  indignities  heaped  upon  the 
''Lyttonses"  by  "upstarts." 

State's  Attorney  Martindale  then  arose  in  his  place,  and 
opened  his  argument  for  the  prosecution  in  a  very  able 
review  of  the  evidence  that  had  been  given  by  the  witnesses 
examined  and  the  documents  presented. 

Presently  a  bailiff  was  seen  pushing  his  way  up  througli 
the  crowd. 

He  came  up  to  the  counsel  for  the  accut  >d  and  handed 
a  card  to  Mr.  Denham. 

That  gentleman  took  it,  looked  at  it,  stared  at  it,  changed 
color,  and,  without  a  word  of  explanation,  abruptly  arose 
and  left  his  seat,  and  followed  the  note  bearer  through  the 
crowd  and  out  of  the  courtroom. 

Mr.  Berners  and  Mr.  Lytton  looked  after  him  in  sur- 
prise and  curiosity. 

State's  Attorney  Martindale  meanwhile  went  on  with 
his  argument. 

After  an  absence  of  about  fifteen  minutes,  Mr.  Denham 
returned  and  resumed  his  seat  beside  his  senior  colleague, 
Mr.  Berners. 

He  gave  no  explanation  of  his  abrupt  departure  and 
absence,  but  sat  tliere  listening  attentively  to  the  speech 
of  the  prosecuting  attorney,  and  smiling  to  himself  as  in 
silent  triumph. 

Neither  his  senior  colleague,  Mr.  Berners,  nor  his  client, 
Mr.  Lytton,  interrupted  his  reflections,  considering  that  it 
fell  to  his  duty  to  follow  Mr.  Martindale's  speech  with  an 
opening  address  for  the  defense. 

At  length  Mr.  Martindale  brought  his  argument  to  a 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  269 

conclusion  by  a  very  brilliant  peroration,  and  sat  down, 
saying  that  there  the  prosecution  would  rest  the  case. 

Mr.  Denham,  giving  his  client  a  reassuring  pressure  of 
tlie  hand,  and  wearing  the  same  strange  smile  of  secret 
mirth  and  triumph  on  his  face,  arose  for  the  defense.  He 
began  by  saying: 

^^Your  honor  and  gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  prosecution 
has  favored  us  with  some  able  speeches,  and  has  produced 
a  host  of  witnesses  to  prove  the  truth  of  a  false  and  ma- 
licious charge  brought  against  our  client.  We  of  the  de- 
fense have  no  speech  to  make,  and  only  one  witness  to  call. 
Let  Craven  Kyte  be  put  upon  the  stand  and  sworn." 


CHAPTER  L 

ONE  SINGLE  WITNESS 

Every  one  arose  and  looked  around,  to  catch  sight  of 
the  expected  witness. 

But  no  one  was  so  much  affected  as  the  accused.  He 
started  to  his  feet  on  first  hearing  the  name  of  Craven 
K)i:e,  and  then  dropped  back  into  his  chair,  pale  as  marble. 

Evidently  he  had  not  expected  to  hear  this  man  called. 

In  the  meantime  a  little  bustle  was  heard  in  the  hall,  as 
of  some  one  pushing  his  way  through  the  crowd. 

And  presently  Craven  Kyte,  pale,  calm,  handsome,  and 
well  dressed  in  clerical  black,  came  forward  and  entered 
the  witness-box. 

He  bowed  to  the  presiding  judge,  and  stood  ready  to 
give  in  his  testimony. 

All  eyes  within  range  of  them  turned  constantly  from 
tlie  witness  on  the  stand  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar. 

The  two  men  were  perfect  duplicates  of  each  other. 

The  oath  was  administered  to  the  witness. 

Mr.  Berners  conducted  tlie  examination. 

^•please  to  state  your  name  and  age,  the  place  of  your 


270  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

nativity,  and  all  you  know  of  the  marriage  performed  at 

the  Church  of  St.  ,  in  the  city  of  Philadelphia,  on 

the  fifteenth  day  of  September  last,  l^etween  the  hours  of 
twelve  and  one  p.  m.,"  said  the  counsel. 

"My  name  is  Craven  Kyte.  I  am  a  native  of  this  town. 
I  am  twenty-three  years  of  age.  I  know  Mrs.  Mary  Grey, 
one  of  the  parties  to  the  marriage.  I  was  engaged  to  be 
married  to  her.  On  the  evening  of  the  fourteenth  of  Sep- 
tember I  arrived  in  Philadelphia,  having  followed  her  there 
at  her  request.  On  the  morning  of  tlie  fifteenth  I  met  her 
by  appointment  at  the  Art  Gallery  of  Bertue  Brothers.  It 
was  arranged  that  we  should  be  married  on  that  day.  I 
took  a  cab  and  we  entered  it.  At  her  suggestion  I  directed 
that  driver  to  take  us  to  the  rectory  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Borden. 
As  we  drove  along,  she  proposed  that  I  should  marry  her 
under  the  name  of  Alden  Lytton." 

At  these  words  of  the  witness  there  was  an  immense 
sensation  in  the  court,  breaking  forth  into  murmurs  of 
astonishment  and  indignation,  so  that  the  judge  arose  in 
his  place  and  said  that  order  must  be  observed,  or  he  should 
be  obliged  to  command  the  clearing  of  the  courtroom. 

His  words  produced  the  proper  effect,  and  the  specta- 
tors became  "as  still  as  mice." 

The  examination  of  the  witness  was  resumed. 

"You  say  that  Mrs.  Mary  Grey  proposed  that  you  should 
marry  her  in  the  name  of  Mr.  Alden  Lytton  ?" 

"Yes.  I  was  very  much  astonished  at  the  proposal,  and 
expostulated  with  her  about  it,  but  she  was  in  earnest,  and 
at  last  she  made  it  an  absolute  condition  of  my  ever  getting 
her  at  all,  that  I  should  marry  her  under  the  name  of  Al- 
den Lytton." 

"What  reason  did  she  give  for  this  singular  request?" 

"She  said  she  only  wanted  to  play  a  harmless  practical 
joke  upon  Miss  Cavendish,  the  betrothed  of  Mr.  Lytton." 

"But  her  joke  was  so  deep  and  earnest  that  she  made 
it  the  only  condition  upon  which  she  would  marry  you  at 
all,  you  say?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  2T1 

"And  did  you  comply  with  that  condition?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Sooner  than  lose  her,  I  complied  with  that 
wicked  condition.  It  did  not  seem  wicked  to  me  then.  It 
only  seemed  foolish  and  purposeless.  And,  besides,  I  firmly 
believe  I  was  half-crazy  at  that  time." 

"Quite  likely,"  said  Mr.  Berners,  dryly.  "What  fol- 
lowed ?" 

"Well,  sir,  and  gentlemen,  we  drove  to  the  rectory.  She 
took  a  blank  card  out  of  her  pocket,  and  with  a  pencil 
wrote  Mr.  Alden  Lytton's  name  on  it,  and  told  me  to  send 
that  in  to  the  rector  as  if  it  were  my  own.  When  I  looked 
at  the  name  on  the  card,  I  exclaimed  how  much  it  looked 
like  Mr.  Lytton's  own  handwriting.  And  she  said,  'so 
much  the  better.'  " 

Again,  at  these  words,  a  murmur  of  indignation  ran 
through  the  courtroom,  which  was  instantly  suppressed,  as 
every  one  wished  to  hear  every  word  uttered  by  this  witness. 

He  continued : 

"I  rang  the  bell  at  the  rectory,  and  sent  that  card  in  by 
the  servant  who  came  to  open  the  door.  Presently  I  was 
invited  into  the  rector's  study.  He  addressed  me  as  Mr. 
Lytton,  and  wanted  to  know  how  he  could  serve  me.  Then 
I  told  him  what  I  had  come  for.  And  he  consented  to 
perform  the  marriage  ceremony,  but  said  he  must  do  it 
in  the  church,  which  was  just  next  door  to  the  rectory.  I 
went  back  to  the  carriage  for  Mary " 

"Meaning  Mrs.  Grey?" 

"Yes.  But  I  called  her  *Mary'  then.  I  went  back  for 
her,  and  brought  her  into  the  church,  where  under  the 
name  of  Alden  Lytton,  I  was  married  to  Mary  Grey  by 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Borden,  in  the  presence  of  John  Martin, 
sexton  of  the  church,  and  of  Sarah  Martin,  his  daughter. 
A  marriage  certificate,  signed  by  the  minister  and  the  wit- 
nesses, was  then  given  to  Mrs.  Grey." 

"What  happened  next?" 

"At  her  request  I  drove  her  back  to  the  Blank  House, 
where  she  had  been  stopping.  She  got  out  at  the  corner 
of  the  street,  however,  and  walked  to  the  house,  while  I 


g7S  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

waited  in  a  neighboring  reading-room  for  her  return. 
After  an  hour's  absence  she  came  back,  and  we  drove  to 
the  'Asterick/  where  I  had  engaged  rooms  for  us  both. 
But  she  declined  staying  in  town  any  time,  and  expressed 
a  wish  to  go  to  Havre-de-Grace.  So  we  only  stopped  at 
the  'Asterick*  long  enough  to  pay  my  bill  and  gather  up 
my  effects,  and  then  we  took  the  train  for  Havre-de-Grace, 
where  we  arrived  the  same  afternoon." 

Here  the  witness  suddenly  became  so  agitated  that  he 
could  not  go  on  for  some  moments. 

Mr.  Denham  brought  him  a  glass  of  water. 

He  drank,  and  seemed  somewhat  revived. 

"Tell  us  what  occurred  at  Havre-de-Grace." 

"We  took  rooms  at  the  'Star,'  had  tea  there,  and  after 
tea  she  proposed  to  take  a  walk  down  by  the  water  side, 
as  the  evening  was  so  delightful.  When  we  had  walked 
a  while,  she  proposed  that  we  should  hire  a  boat  and  go 
rowing.  I  objected,  being  but  an  indifferent  oarsman. 
But  she  insisted,  declaring  that  she  had  been  brought  up 
on  the  water  side,  and  could  row  like  a  squaw  and  swim 
like  a  fish.  I  was  her  slave,  and  I  obeyed  her.  We  hired 
the  boat  of  her  choice — a  mere  shell  of  a  boat " 

Here  the  judge,  who  had  been  growing  a  little  impatient, 
inquired  of  the  counsel  for  the  defense : 

"Pray,  Mr.  Berners,  what  has  all  this  about  the  boat  to 
do  with  the  case  on  trial  " 

"It  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  it,  your  honor,  as  tend- 
ing to  prove  that  this  woman  had  a  deep  design  upon  the 
peace  and  honor  of  the  gentleman  whom  she  claims  as 
her  husband,  and  that  she  did  not  hesitate  at  any  crime 
to  carry  out  that  design  to  a  successful  issue,"  respectfully 
replied  the  counsel. 

"Let  the  witness  proceed  then,"  said  the  judge. 

"WTiat  happened  next?"  inquired  Mr.  Denham. 

"Murder  happened  next — at  least  an  attempt  at  mur- 
der. We  got  into  the  little  shell  of  a  boat,  and  I  took 
the  oars  and  rowed  out  into  the  river  and  down  with  the 
tide.    We  rowed  about  for  more  than  two  hours.    It  grew 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  273 

vei\Y  dark  and  I  then  wished  to  come  in;  but  she  ol)jec-!"ed^ 
and  asked  me  to  row  around  a  certain  point  that  I  saw 
dimly  down  the  river.  I  rowed  to  the  point  and  around 
it,  when  suddenly  she  made  an  exclamation  that  her  liat 
had  fallen  into  the  water,  and  she  begged  me  to  get  it  for 
her.  It  floated  about  three  feet  from  the  side  of  the  boat. 
I  drew  in  my  oars  and  secured  them,  and  then  leaned  over 
the  side  of  the  boat  and  reached  out  my  hand  to  get  the  hat, 
which  was  floating  further  off.  I  had  to  lean  so  far  over, 
and  stretch  my  hand  so  far  out,  that  it  was  as  much  as  ever 
I  could  do  to  keep  my  balance.  But  just  as  I  touched  the 
hat,  she  gave  me  a  sudden  and  violent  push  from  behind, 
and  sent  me  into  the  water.  ^' 

At  this  a  murmur  of  horror  and  indignation  passed 
through  the  courtroom.  And  on  this  occasion  no  one  at- 
tempted to  enforce  silence. 

But  soon  the  deep  interest  of  the  audience  in  the  story 
of  the  witness  closed  their  lips  and  opened  their  ears  again ; 
and  they  became  silent  and  attentive. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  Mrs.  Grey  pushed  you  into  tlie 
water  purposely?"  inquired  Mr.  Denham. 

"Yes,  sir.  She  could  not  have  done  it  accidentally.  She 
waited  until  I  had  leaned  so  far  over  that  the  least  jar 
might  have  made  me  lose  my  balance;  and  then  suddenly, 
with  all  her  strength,  she  pushed  me,  and  I  dropped  into 
the  water,  and  sunk  like  so  much  lead.  I  could  not  swim 
at  all.  Twice,  in  my  struggles  for  life,  I  rose  to  the  sur- 
face, and  cried  for  help.  Both  times  I  saw  her  boat  whirl- 
ing round  and  round,  from  the  impetus  given  it  by  the 
violence  with  which  she  had  pushed  me  over.  The  second 
time  I  sank  I  lost  my  senses.  When  I  recovered  them,  I 
found  myself  stretched  out  on  the  deck  of  a  collier,  with 
several  people  rubbing  and  rolling  me.  But  I  was  weak  in 
all  my  limbs,  and  sorely  confused  in  my  head." 

"Witness,  can  you  not  shorten  this?"  inquired  the  judge. 

"Yes,  your  honor,  I  can  shorten  it,  if  they  will  permit 
me.  The  schooner  that  picked  me  up  was  the  Sally  Ann, 
trading   from    Havre-de-Grace   and   other   coal   depots   to 


^74?  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

Washington  and  Georgetown.  They  were  outward  bound 
tliei],  and  as  I  could  give  no  account  of  myself,  being  so 
nearly  dead,  they  took  me  along  with  them.  They  carried 
me  to  Washington,  where  I  lay  ill  in  the  free  ward  of  the 
Samaritan  Hospital,  under  the  care  of  the  good  Sisters  of 
Mercy,  for  two  months.  When  I  recovered  sufficiently  to 
know  where  I  was,  I  found  out  that  I  had  been  registered 
there  under  the  name  of  Albert  Little.  I  don't  know  how 
that  happened,  but  I  suppose  somebody  must  have  found 
in  my  pocket  the  card  with  Alden  Lytton  written  upon  it, 
and  perhaps  blotted  with  the  river  water,  and  had  misread 
it  Albert  Little.    But  that  is  only  a  conjecture." 

"Confine  yourself  to  facts,  witness,  and  leave  conjec- 
tures," said  the  judge. 

"Well,  your  honor,  the  fact  then  was  that  my  name  was 
registered  Albert  Little,  however  it  came  to  be  done.  I 
did  not  care  to  set  the  good  sisters  right  about  my  name, 
and  so  I  let  the  matter  go.  As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  write, 
and  before  I  was  able  to  walk,  I  wrote  to  my  senior  part- 
ner, Mr.  Bastiennelli,  a  private  and  confidential  letter,  ask- 
ing him  to  come  and  visit  me  at  the  hospital,  and  to  inquire 
there  for  one  Albert  Little.  Mr.  Bastiennelli,  who  had  suf- 
fered great  anxiety  on  the  subject  of  my  long-protracted 
and  unaccountable  absence,  came  at  once  to  see  me.  I  told 
him  of  everything  that  had  befallen  me,  especially  as  to 
Mary  Grey's  insisting  on  my  marrying  her  under  the  name 
of  Alden  Lytton,  and  afterward  attempting  to  get  rid  of 
me  by  murder.  He  was  dreadfully  shocked,  of  course,  but 
in  a  subsequent  conversation  with  me,  suggested  that  Mrs. 
Grey  had  some  ultimate  purpose  in  the  perpetration  of 
these  crimes,  and  he  advised  me  to  lie  perdue  for  a  while 
until  we  should  see  what  her  purpose  was,  and  foil  her  in 
it.  Some  days  afterward  he  proposed  that  I  should  take 
a  commission  from  him  to  go  and  purchase  goods  for  him 
in  Europe.  As  soon  as  I  was  able  to  travel  I  left  the  coun- 
try on  this  business.  I  was  absent  several  months,  and 
only  arrived  in  my  native  country  five  days  ago.  On  the 
day  after  my  landing  at  New  York,  in  looking  over  some 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  275 

files  of  newspapers,  I  read  the  advertisements  for  me.  T 
guessed  at  once  that  I  was  wanted  for  business  connected 
with  the  secret  of  my  own  life,  and  so  I  packed  up  and  took 
the  first  train  to  Washington,  and  the  next  boat  to  Eich- 
mond,  and  the  train  to  Wendover,  without  stopping  an 
hour  on  my  journey.  I  reached  this  place  at  noon  to-day ; 
found  the  town  full  of  people,  as  if  a  fair  or  a  festival 
was  going  on;  asked  what  was  the  matter,  and  was  told 
about  this  trial.  Of  course  then  I  had  the  key  to  Mary 
Grey's  mysterious  crime,  and  I  knew  where  I  was  wanted. 
I  came  at  once  to  the  court,  wrote  my  name  on  a  card  and 
sent  it  in  to  Mr.  Lytton's  junior  counsel,  who  came  out  to 
meet  me  and  brought  me  here.*' 

"That  will  do,  Mr.  Kyte.  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  you 
have  heard  the  testimony  of  our  witness,  the  only  and 
all-sufficient  witness  for  the  defense ;  but  we  will  recall  one 
who  appeared  here  as  the  most  important  witness  for  the 
prosecution.  The  Bev.  Mr.  Borden  will  please  to  take  the 
stand  once  more,"  said  Mr.  Berners. 

The  rector  of  St. came  forward  and  took  his  place 

in  the  witness-box. 

"Mr.  Borden,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  look  at  these 
two  gentlemen  and  tell  me,  upon  your  oath,  which  of  them 
you  married  to  Mrs.  Mary  Grey?"  politely  requested  Mr. 
Berners. 

The  rector  looked  from  Alden  Lytton  to  Craven  Kyte, 
and  from  Craven  Kyte  back  to  Alden  Lytton.  And  his 
face  paled  and  flushed,  as  he  exclaimed : 

"May  the  Lord  of  Heaven  forgive  me,  for  I  have  made 
an  awful  mistake !  It  was  that  gentleman  whom  I  mar- 
ried to  Mrs.  Grey."  And  he  pointed  straight  at  Craven 
Kyte. 

"A  while  ago  you  swore  it  was  the  other  man,'^  said  Mr. 
Desmond,  with  an  ugly  sneer. 

"  So  I  did !  May  Heaven  forgive  me  for  the  awful, 
though  unconscious  perjury !  for  so  I  thought  with  all  my 
judgment  until  I  saw  this  last  man.  And  certainly  they 
are  perfect  duplicates  of  each  other.     Any  one  under  the 


^^76  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

same  circumstances  might  have  made  the  same  mistake," 
meekW  replied  the  minister. 

And  certainly  every  one  who  saw  and  compared  the  two 
men  agreed  with  the  last  speaker. 

"Will  you  be  so  good,  reverend  sir,  as  to  explain  by  what 
test  you  now  know  these  perfect  duplicates,  the  one  from 
the  other,  and  are  enabled  to  identify  the  particular  one 
whom  3^ou  married  to  Mrs.  Grey  on  the  fifteenth  of  last 
September?" 

"Certainly,  sir.  I  can  distinguish  them  by  a  certain 
indefinable  difference  which  I  can  perceive  while  I  see  tliem 
together,  but  which  I  might  fail  to  perceive  if  they  were 
apart  from  each  other.  Also  I  can  identify  this  last  man, 
who  calls  himself  Craven  Kyte,  by  that  small  mark  or  scar 
that  he  bears  on  his  temple  near  the  corner  of  his  left  eye. 
I  noticed  it  at  the  time  I  performed  the  marriage  ceremony, 
but  I  thought  it  was  a  fresh  scar.  And  I  never  remembered 
it  at  all  when  called  upon  to  identify  Mr.  Alden  Lytton,  or 
indeed  until  I  saw  it  again  upon  Mr.  Craven  Kyte." 

"That  will  do,"  said  Mr.  Desmond.  And  the  minister 
was  allowed  to  retire. 

John  and  Sarah  Martin  were  recalled  in  succession,  and 
each,  when  confronted  with  the  two  men,  recanted  from 
their  late  testimony,  and  swore  pointedly  to  the  person  of 
Craven  Kyte  as  the  man  they  saw  married  to  Mary  Grey. 

At  this  point  the  foreman  of  the  jury  arose  in  his  place 
and  asked  permission  of  the  bench  to  render  their  verdict 
at  once,  as  they  had  all  quite  made  up  their  minds  upon 
the  case. 

After  a  few  moments'  consultation,  the  requested  permis- 
sion was  given,  and  the  jury,  without  leaving  their  seats, 
rendered  their  verdict  of: 

"N'ot  guilty!" 

The  accused  was  formally  discharged  from  custody. 
And  then  the  judge  did  an  almost  unprecedented  thing. 
He  adjourned  the  court,  came  down  from  the  bench,  and 
warmly  shook  hands  with  Mr.  Lytton,  congratulating  him 
upon  his  complete  vindication. 


VICTOR'S  TRIUIMPII  27T 

And  friends  crowded  around  him,  rejoicing  with  him 
in  hearty  sympathy. 

x4mong  them  came  Craven  Kyte,  saying,  as  soon  as  lie 
got  a  chance  to  speak : 

''Mr.  Lytton,  I  have  come  to  implore  3^our  pardon  for 
the  great  wrong  I  unconsciously  did  you.  Heaven  knov/s 
I  never  meant  it! 

"I  was  mad  and  blind.  She  told  me  it  was  only  to  be 
a  practical  joke,  and  made  it  the  only  condition  of  our 
marriage,  and  I  complied  because  I  was  her  slave,"  con- 
tinued Craven  Kyte,  not  very  clearly. 

"Say  no  more  about  it.  Forget  it  all  as  fast  as  you  can. 
I  shall,"  answered  Alden,  gently  pressing  and  relinquish- 
ing the  hand  that  he  had  held. 

"Your  carriage  waits,  my  dear  L3'tton.  And  I  am  sure 
you  are  anxious  to  get  back  to  Blue  Cliffs,  and  be  the  first 
to  convey  this  good  news  to  your  wife,"  said  Mr.  Lyle,  with 
a  view  to  help  Alden  to  get  rid  of  his  well-meaning,  but 
troublesome  friends,  who,  in  the  earnestness  of  their  sym- 
pathy with  his  triumph,  forgot  they  were  keeping  him  from 
her  whom  his  soul  most  longed  to  meet. 

Friends  took  the  gentle  hint,  shook  hands  with  him  and 
released  him. 

And  very  soon  x\lden  Lytton,  with  Mr.  Lyle  and  Laura, 
were  on  their  way  to  Blue  Cliffs. 

As  the  carriage  rolled  into  the  yard,  Emma  ran  down 
the  steps,  her  face  radiant  with  joy,  to  meet  the  beloved 
husband  from  whom  she  had  been  separated  for  so  many 
weeks  under  such  trying  cireumstances,  and  whose  face 
she  had  been  the  first  to  see  through  the  glass  windows  of 
the  carriage. 

A  moment  more  and  they  were  locked  in  each  other's 
arms,  fervently  thanking  Heaven  for  their  happy  reunion. 

Later  that  evening,  the  six  friends  were  all  assemb{(?d 
together  in  the  drawing-room. 

John  Lytton  and  Charley,  who  were  the  guests  of  the 
house  for  the  night,  had  just  bid  them  good-night  and 
retired  to  their  room. 


•^78  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

And  then  and  there  two  little  confessions  were  made. 

Alden  Lytton  related  the  whole  history  of  his  foolish 
boj'ish  love  for  the  fascinating  and  unprincipled  widow, 
who  had  so  nearly  effected  his  destruction. 

Emma  listened  in  full  sympathy,  with  his  hand  clasped 
in  hers;  and  no  retrospective  Jealousy  disturbed  the  seren- 
ity of  her  loving  and  trusting  spirit. 

And  at  the  close  of  the  story  she  silently  raised  his  hand 
and  pressed  it  to  her  heart.  That  was  her  only  comment. 
And  the  subject  was  never  afterward  mentioned  between 
the  two. 

Then  it  was  that  Joseph  Brent  made  his  identity  known 
to  Alden  Lytton,  Emma  and  Laura,  as  it  had  long  been 
known  to  Mr.  Lyle  his  friend,  and  Electra  his  wife.  And 
Emma  and  Laura  wept  anew  over  the  long  past  sorrows 
of  poor  Victor  Hartman. 

Alden  grasped  his  hand  in  earnest  gratitude  and  friend- 
ship. 

"And  it  is  to  you,"  he  said,  "that  my  sister  and  myself 
owe  all  our  present  happiness.  You  thought  for  us, 
planned  for  us,  toiled  for  us,  made  us  even  as  your  own 
•children,  simply  because  you  were  falsely  accused  of  hav- 
ing made  us  fatherless !"  he  said,  as  the  generous  tears 
filled  his  eyes. 

"I  did  all  this  because,  but  for  the  mercy  of  Heaven,  a 
mad  blow  of  mine  might  have  made  you  fatherless,  as  it 
nearly  did,^'  answered  Victor  Hartman. 

"  Do  you  know  who  really  struck  the  fatal  blow,  and  why 
it  was  struck?" 

"No;  I  know  neither  one  nor  the  other." 

"Then  you  shall  learn,  for  now  is  the  time  to  speak," 
said  Alden  Lytton. 


CHAPTER  LI 

FATE  OF  MARY  GREY 

In  pursuance  of  his  promise  to  tell  who  killed  his  father, 
Alden  Lytton  said : 


VICTOR'S  TRimiPH  ^9 

^'One  hardly  knows  how  to  begin  so  painful  a  story. 
But  here  it  is.  You  may  have  heard  of  a  wild,  handsome 
ne'er-do-well  who  kept  the  White  Perch  Point  Hotel,  and 
married  a  relative  of  the  Cavendish  family?" 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course.  He  was  the  husband  of  this  widow 
lady  who  lives  here." 

"The  same.  They  had  one  child,  a  daughter,  said  ta 
have  been  as  beautiful  as  the  mother,  and  as  wild  and  reck- 
less as  the  father.  Out  of  pure  deviltry,  as  it  would  seem,, 
this  girl  ran  away  from  her  boarding-school  in  company 
with  an  unprincipled  young  play  actor,  who  afterward 
abandoned  her.  Soon  after  this  my  dear  father,  who  had 
knowTi  her  parents  and  herself,  too,  met  and  recognized 
her  under  the  most  painful  circumstances.  He  was  deeply 
shocked;  and  almost  with  a  father's  authority  he  insisted 
on  taking  her  home  to  his  own  house  and  sending  for  her 
friends.  She  was  but  a  child.  She  knew  also,  that  being 
a  minor,  she  was  liable  to  be  taken  in  custody,  upon  com- 
plaint made,  and  forcibly  restored  to  her  family.  But 
she  was  full  of  duplicity.  She  affected  to  consent  to  return 
to  her  parents,  and  allowed  my  father  to  bring  her  back  as 
far  as  his  own  house,  whence  he  wrote  a  letter  to  her 
'rfather  telling  him  of  the  whereabouts  of  his  daughter. 
and  asking  him  to  come  and  receive  her  at  his  hands. 
But  the  very  day  upon  which  this  letter  was  mailed- 
two  events  occurred  to  frustrate  the  good  intentions 
of  the  writer.  Ivy  Fanning  ran  away  from  Fair- 
view,  my  father's  villa.  And  Mr.  Fanning,  having 
heard  from  the  principal  of  the  school  from  which  his. 
daughter  had  eloped,  came  furiously  to  town  in  search  of 
the  fugitive.  Most  unfortunately,  he  ascertained  beyond 
a  doubt  that  his  daughter  was  living  at  Fairview,  whither 
she  had  been  taken  by  the  master  of  the  house,  Mr.  Henry 
Lytton.  Mistaking  altogether  the  situation,  believing  my 
dear  father  to  have  been  the  first  abductor  of  the  girl,  he 
waylaid  him  and  struck  the  fatal  blow  which  caused  his 
death,  and  which  had  so  nearly  cost  you  also  your  life. 

"After  committing  this  dreadful  deed,  the  guilty  mai> 


S80  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

fled  to  his  own  home,  where  he  found  awaiting  him  the 
letter  from  Mr.  Lytton  explaining  everything. 

"After  this  his  remorse  knew  no  bounds.  But,  ah!  he 
was  a  coward.  He  dared  not  meet  the  penalty  of  his 
crime.  He  saw  another  man  condemned  to  die  for  his 
offense,  yet  he  dared  not  confess  and  save  the  guiltless. 
He  tried  indirect  ways.  He  wrote  anonymous  letters  to 
the  governor.  And  when  at  last  he  found  that  these  had 
no  effect,  and  the  day  of  execution  drew  very  near,  he 
came  by  night  to  this  house,  and  in  a  private  interview 
with  Governor  Cavendish,  after  binding  him  to  a  tempor- 
ary secrecy,  he  confessed  himself  the  murderer  of  Henry 
Lytton,  and  related  all  the  circumstances  that  led  to  the 
tragedy. 

"This  confession,  made  as  it  was  under  the  seal  of  tem- 
porary secrecy,  placed  the  late  Governor  Cavendish  in  a 
false  position. 

"He  could  not  permit  an  innocent  man  to  be  executed 
for  the  crime  of  a  guilty  one.  Nor  could  he,  being  bound 
to  secrecy,  expose  the  guilty.  He  was,  therefore,  com- 
pelled to  pardon  the  supposed  murderer,  without  giving 
any  explanation  to  outraged  public  sentiment  for  the 
strangeness  of  his  action.  Such  was  the  explanation  made 
to  me  by  the  late  Governor  Cavendish,  with  the  stipula- 
tion that  I  should  keep  the  secret  during  the  natural  life 
of  Frederick  Fanning — which  he  felt  sure  could  not  be  of 
long  duration — and  also  that  afterward  I  should  reveal  it 
to  3^ou,  if  ever  I  should  happen  to  meet  you.  That  is  all, 
my  dear  friend  and  benefactor.  And  some  day,  when  the 
poor  old  lady  upstairs  shall  have  passed  away  to  her 
heavenly  home,  this  story,  which  is  your  vindication,  shall 
be  published  to  the  world.  And  the  name  of  Victor  Hart- 
man,  which  3'ou  have  renounced  and  declared  to  be  dead 
and  buried,  shall  be  rescued  from  unmerited  reproach,  and 
crowned  with  merited  honor." 

A  loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  hall  door. 

And  the  next  moment  Jerome,  the  hall  footman,  who 
had  immediately  or^ened  the  door,  entered  the  drav/ing- 


VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH  281 

room,  saying  that  there  was  a  messenger  from  the  Rein- 
deer, with  a  note  for  ]\Irs.  Fanning,  on  a  matter  of  life  and 
death- 
Mr.  Lytton  immediately  went  out  to  see  the  messenger, 
who  proved  to  be  no  other  than  Mithridates,  or  "Taters," 
once  the  slave  of  Frederick  Fanning,  some  time  the  hired 
servant  of  John  Lytton,  and  now  hostler  at  the  Reindeer. 

''Well,  Taters,  what  is  it?  Mrs.  Fanning  has  gone  to 
bed,  and  we  don't  like  to  disturb  her  at  this  hour  of  the 
night,"  said  Mr.  Lytton. 

"Oh,  marster!  You'll  have  to  sturb  her  nebbertheless 
and  notwivstandin',"  said  the  weeping  boy,  "because  my 
young  missus,  which  wasn't  a  ghost  after  all,  but  was  a 
libbin'  'oman  when  I  see  her  here,  is  a  dyin'  now  at  the 
Reindeer,  and  want  to  see  her  mudder." 

"What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about,  boy?"  inquired 
the  bewildered  man. 

"Miss  Iby  Fannin',  sir!  My  young  mist'ess  as  used  to 
was !  She  be  a  dyin'  at  de  Reindeer  and  wants  to  see  her 
mudder.  Miss  Fannin',  my  ole  missis,  wot  libs  here,"  ex- 
plained the  boy,  bursting  into  fresh  sobs  and  tears. 

"Ivy  Fanning,  the  long-missing  girl,  supposed  to  be 
dead — dying  now  at  the  Reindeer?" 

"  Yes,  sir  !  Yes,  sir  !  And  if  you  don't  make  haste  and 
tell  my  ole  missis,  she'll  be  dead  before  her  mudder  can 
get  to  her,"  sobbed  the  faithful  boy. 

"Sit  down  here  and  wait,"  said  Mr.  L}i;ton,  who  now 
understood  the  emergency ;  and,  leaving  the  boy  seated  in 
the  hall,  he  went  into  the  drawing-room  and  told  Emma 
the  surprising  news  that  Ivy  Fanning,  the  long-lost,  erring 
daughter  of  Frederick  and  Katherine  Fanning,  and  the 
unworthy  cousin  of  Emma  Cavendish — Ivy  Fanning,  whose 
faults  had  caused  so  much  misery  to  all  connected  with 
her — Ivy  Fanning,  supposed  to  be  dead  long  ago,  was  now 
lying  at  the  point  of  death  at  the  Reindeer  Hotel,  and 
begging  to  see  her  poor,  wronged  mother ! 

"WTiat  a  terrible  thing  to  tell  Aunt  Katherine,  when 
we  rouse  her  up  at  the  dead  of  night!"  exclaimed  Emma. 


282  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

"And  .yet,  my  dear  one,  it  is  your  duty  to  do  that  very 
terrible  thing.  Go  bravely  and  do  it,  my  love,  while  I  go 
and  order  the  most  comfortable  carriage  in  the  stable  to 
convey  the  poor  lady  to  Wendover,"  said  Alden  Lytton. 

Emma  went  to  Mrs.  Fanning's  room  and  waked  ber  up. 

Tlie  poor  woman,  jumping  to  the  conclusion  that  some 
one  of  the  household  servants  was  ill  and  in  need  of  her 
ministrations,  got  up  at  once,  and  inquired  who  it  was. 

"It  is  a  friend  of  yours  who  is  ill  at  the  Reindeer  Hotel 
at  Wendover,  and  desires  to  see  you,"  said  Emma,  begin- 
ning gently  to  break  to  the  poor  mother  the  news  that  it 
was  her  dying  daughter  who  had  sent  for  her. 

"Friend?  I  am  sure  I  have  no  friend  who  is  near 
enough  to  send  for  me  at  dead  of  night,  to  come  sixteen 
miles  to  see  him,  or  her,  as  the  case  may  be,"  said  the 
wddow,  looking  very  much  perplexed,  as  she  hastened  to  put 
on  her  clothes, 

"I  should  have  said  a  relative — a  very  near  rclativi^ — a 

long-lost "  began  Emma,  but  her  voice  broke  dovrn  in 

eobs. 

"It  is  Ivy!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fanning,  as  a  swift  iiitiii- 
tion  revealed  to  her  the  truth. 

"Yes,  it  is  Ivy,"  wept  Emma,  throwing  her  arms  aroimd 
the  afflicted  woman.  "And,  oh!  is  it  not  better  so — better 
at  once  to  know  her  fate,  even  to  know  her  safe  in  tlie 
peace  of  death,  than  to  go  on  enduring  this  dreadful  un- 
certainty about  her?" 

"Oh,*^my  child!  my  child!  Oh,  my  child!  my  child!" 
wept  the  poor  mother. 

Emma,  with  sympathy  and  tenderness,  assisted  her  to 
dress. 

"I  will  now  run  and  get  my  hat  and  sack.  Aunt  Kath- 
erine.    I  will  go  with  you  to  Wendover,"  she  said. 

"You  go  with  me!  My  dear  child,  you  have  been  so 
long  parted  from  your  husband,  and  only  received  him 
buck  to-night,  and  leave  him  to  go  with  me?  No,  no.  1 
cannot  permit  you  to  do  so,  Emma,"  said  the  weepin.<i  lady. 

"But  you  need  me,  Aunt  Katheririe;  and  I  should  be 


VICTOR'S  TRIU?JPH  283 

utterly  unwortli}'  of  my  dear  Alden's  love,  if  I  could  fail 
YOU  in  your  time  of  trouble.  Besides,  I  think  Alden  also 
will  .2:0  back  with  you  to  Wendover." 

"Heaven  bless  you  both!  You  are  the  solace  of  my 
sad,  old  age,"  said  the  widow,  earnestly. 

Emma  ran  out,  and  soon  returned  prepared  for  her  sud- 
den night  ride. 

Then  she  took  her  poor  aunt's  arm  within  her  own  and 
supported  her  as  they  walked  downstairs  together. 

In  the  hall  below  they  met  Alden  Lytton,  also  prepared 
for  the  journey. 

He  did  not  seem  at  all  surprised  to  see  Emma  in  her 
hat  and  paletot.  He  understood  her  too  well  for  that.  He 
merely  inquired  if  the  ladies  were  both  quite  ready.  And, 
being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  took  them  out  and 
put  them  into  the  carriage,  tliat  was  immediately  started 
at  a  rate  that  astonished  the  usually  steady-going  horses. 

It  was  after  midnight  when  the  carriage  entered  Wen- 
dover  and  drew  up  before  the  old  Reindeer  Hotel. 

Lights  about  the  house  at  that  hour  showed  that  some- 
thing very  unusual  was  transpiring  within. 

Hezekiah  Greenfield  himself  came  out  to  meet  the  party. 

With  much  gravity  he  greeted  them,  and  to  Mrs.  Tan- 
ning's agonized  inquiries  about  her  daughter,  he  answered : 

''I  can't  well  tell  you  how  she  is,  ma'am.  But  I  will 
call  Sukey,  and  she  will  take  you  to  her." 

Very  soon  good  Mrs.  Greenfield  came  waddling  in. 

Mrs.  Fanning  arose  and  hurried  to  meet  her,  eagerly 
inquiring : 

''How  is  my  child  ?    Does  she  still  live  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  she  is  alive,  and  when  she  sent  for  you 
she  was  still  in  her  right  senses;  but  now  she  is  wander- 
ing, poor  girl,  and  imagines  herself  to  be  still  living  at 
Perch  P'int,"  answered  the  weeping  woman. 

vSfie  led  her  to  a  spacious  upper  chamber,  where  on  a 
white  bed  lay  extended  the  form  of  the  dying  girl. 

"Ivy,  my  darling  I  my  darling  Ivy,  do  you  know  me?" 
tenderly   whispered   the  poor  mother,   taking  her   erring 


284  VICTOR'S  TRIUMPH 

daughter's  wasted  hand,  and  gazing  into  the  fading  face, 
nothing  but  love  and  sorrow  and  forgiveness  in  her  heart. 

''Is  that  yon,  mamma?  Is  it  near  morning?  I'li-  so 
glad!''  said  the  dying  girl,  panting  as  she  spoke.  "Oh, 
I've  had  such  a  dreadful  dream,  mamma — such  a  long, 
dreadful  dream !  I  dreamed  of  doing  such  horrible  f?nd 
wicked  things — that  I  never  could  have  done  in  my  waking 
hours;  I  lived  long  years  in  last  night's  dreadful  dream. 
I  am  glad  it  is  morning.    Kiss  me,  mamma." 

These  were  her  last  words,  panted  forth  with  her  last 
breath.     The  mothers  kiss  fell  upon  "unanswering  clay." 

Katherine  Fanning  was  borne  in  a  fainting  conflition 
from  the  deathbed  of  her  daughter. 

But  it  was  not  until  Alden  and  Emma  saw  the  fri<e  (^f 
that  sinful  child  of  passion  in  her  coffin  that  they  knew 
Ivy  Fanning  and  Mary  Grey  to  be  one  and  the  same  per- 
son. 

Her  remains  were  laid  in  the  family  vault  at  Blue  Cliffs, 
where,  l^efore  many  weeks  had  passed,  the  body  of  her 
broken-hearted  mother  was  laid  beside  them. 

Craven  Kyte  was  never  clearly  certain  whether  he  was 
himself  a  widower  or  a  bachelor.  But  in  either  character 
he  was  free.  And  the  first  use  he  made  of  his  freedom 
was  to  go  to  \Vhite  Perch  Point  and  propose  to  the  brave 
little  maiden  of  the  lighthouse,  who  was  his  last  love,  as 
she  had  been  his  first. 

And  soon  he  made  her  his  wife,  and  brought  her  and 
her  aged  relative  away  from  their  bleak  home  and  dan- 
gerous duties,  and  settled  them  in  a  pretty  rural  cottage 
within  easy  walking  distance  of  his  own  thriving  place  of 
business — the  fashionable  bazaar  of  "Bastiennelli  &  Kyte." 

The  two  young  brides,  Laura  and  Electra,  were  taken 
to  Europe  by  their  husbands,  and  reached  Paris  in  time  to 
be  present  at  the  great  World's  Fair.  And  before  they 
returned,  Victor  Hartman's  story  was  published  to  the 
world,  and  his  name  was  fully  vindicated. 

THE   EXD 


G&od  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  aeries  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


A  COLONIAL  FREE-LANCE.  A  story  of  American  Colonial  Times.  By 
Chauucey  C.  Hotchkiss.  Cloth,  lamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Davis.    Price,  $i.oa 

A  book  that  appeals  to  Americans  as  a  vivid  picture  of  Revolutionary 
scenes.  The  story  is  a  strong  one,  a  thrilling  one.  It  causes  the  tru* 
American  to  flush  with  excitement,  to  devour  chapter  after  chapter,  until 
tho  eyes  smart,  and  it  fairly  smokes  with  patriotism.  The  love  story  is  % 
Singularly  charming  idyl. 

THE  TOWER  OF  LONDON.  A  Historical  Romance  of  the  Times  of  Lady 
Jane  Grey  and  Mary  Tudor.  By  Wm.  Harrison  Ainsworth.  Cloth,  i2mo.  with 
four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank.    Price,  |i.oo. 

This  romance  of  the  "Tower  of  London"  depicts  the  Tower  as  palace, 
prison  and  fortress,  with  many  historical  associations.  The  era  is  th» 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  story  is  divided  into  two  parts,  one  dealing  with  Lady  Jane  Grey, 
and  the  other  with  Mary  Tudor  as  Queen,  introducing  other  notable  char- 
acters of  the  era.  Throughout  the  story  holds  the  interest  of  the  reader 
In  the  midst  of  intrigue  and  conspiracy,  ext^ding  considerably  over  » 
half  a  century. 

IN  DEFIANCE  OF  THE  KING.    A  Romance  of  the  American  Revolution. 

By  Chauncey  C.  Hotchkifts.    Cloth,  lamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watsoa 

Davis.    Price,  Ji.oo. 

Mr.  Hotchkiss  has  etched  in  burning  words  a  story  of  Yankee  bravery, 
a,nd  true  love  that  thrills  from  beginning  to  end,  with  the  spirit  of  th» 
Revolution.  The  heart  beats  quickly,  and  we  feel  ourselves  taking  a 
part  In  the  exciting  scenes  described.  His  whole  story  is  so  abBorbing 
that  you  will  sit  up  far  into  the  night  to  finish  it.  As  a  love  romance 
it    is    charming. 

GARTHOWEN.    A  story  of  a  Welsh  Homestead.    ByAUenRaine.    Cloth, 

i2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.    Price,  $i.oo. 

"This  is  a  little  idyl  of  humble  life  and  enduring  love,  laid  bare  befora 
US,  very  real  and  pure,  which  in  its  telling  shows  us  some  strong  points  of 
Welsh  character— the  pride,  the  hasty  temper,  the  quick  dying  out  of  wrath. 
.  .  .  We  call  this  a  well-written  story,  kiteresting  alike  through  it» 
romance  and  its  glimpses  into  another  life  than  ours.  A  delightful  and 
clever  picture  of  Welsh  village  life.  The  result  is  excellent."— Detroit  Free 
Press. 

MIFANWY.     The  story  of  a  Welsh  Singer.      By  Allan  Raine.     Cloth, 

i2mD.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.    Price,  $i.oo. 

"This  is  a  love  story,  simple,  tender  and  pretty  as  one  would  care  to 
read.  The  action  throughout  is  brisk  and  pleasing;  the  characters,  it  is  ap- 
parent at  once,  are  as  true  to  life  as  though  the  author  had  known  them 
all  personally.  Simple  in  all  its  situations,  the  story  Is  worked  up  in  that 
touching  and  quaint  strain  which  never  grows  wearisome,  no  matter  how 
often  the  lights  and  shadows  of  love  are  introduced.  It  rings  true,  an4 
dots  not  tax  the  imagination." — Boston  Herald. 


For  sa'e  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  (mb* 
aaliers,  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  52-58  Duaae  St.,  New  York. 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  tht  fieW 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


DARNLEY.  A  Romance  of  the  times  of  Henry  VIII.  and  Cardinal  WoTsey. 
By  G.  P.  R.  James.  Cloth,  lamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis. 
Price,  $i.oo. 

In  point  of  publication,  "Darnley"  is  that  work  by  Mr.  James  which 
follows  ''Richelieu,"  and,  if  rumor  can  be  credited,  it  was  owing  to  the  ad- 
vice and  insistence  of  our  own  Wiisnington  Irving  that  we  are  indebted 
primarily  for  the  story,  the  young  author  questioning  whether  he  oouUl 
properly  paint  the  difference  in  the  characters  of  the  two  great  cardinals. 
And  it  is  not  surprising  that  James  should  have  hesitated;  he  had  been 
eminently  successful  in  giving  to  the  world  the  portrait  of  Richelieu  as  a 
man,  and  by  attempting  a  similar  task  with  M'olsey  as  the  theme,  was 
l»uch  like  tempting  fortune.  Irving  insisted  that  "Darnley"  came  n.atur- 
ally  in  sequence,  and  this  opinion  being  supported  by  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
the  author  set  about  the  work. 

As  a  historical  romance  "Dai'nley"  is  a  book  that  can  be  taken  up 
pleasurably  again  and  again,  for  there  is  about  It  that  subtle  charrn  which 
thooe  who  are  strangers  to  the  works  of  G.  P.  R.  James  have  claimed  waa 
only  to  be  Imparted  by  Dumas. 

If  there  was  nothing  more  about  the  work  to  attract  especial  aUcntlon, 
the  account  of  the  meeting  of  the  kings  on  the  historic  "field  of  the  cloth  of 
told"  would  entitle  the  story  to  the  most  favorable  consideration  of  every 
reader. 

There  is  really  but  little  pure  romance  in  this  story,  for  the  author  haa 
taken  care  to  imagine  love  passages  only  between  those  whom  history  haa 
credited  with  having  entertained  the  tender  passion  one  for  another,  and 
h*  aucceeds  in  making  such  lovers  as  all  the  world  must  love. 

CAPTAIN  BRAND,  OP  THE  SCHOONER  CENTIPEDE.  By  Lieut. 
Henry  A.  Wise,  U.S.N.  (Harry  Gringo).  Cloth,  i2mo.  with  four  illustra- 
tions by  J.  Watson  Davis.    Price,  $i.oo. 

The  re-publication  of  this  story  will  please  those  lovers  of  sea  yarns 
^ho  delight  In  so  much  of  the  salty  flavor  of  the  ocean  as  can  come  through 
the  medium  of  a  printed  page,  for  never  has  a  story  of  the  sea  and  those 
"who  go  down  in  ships"  been  written  by  one  more  familiar  with  the  scenea 
depicted. 

The  one  book  of  this  gifted  author  which  Is  best  remembered,  and  which 
Win  be  read  with  pleasure  for  many  years  to  come.  Is  "Captain  Brand," 
who,  as  the  author  states  on  his  title  page,  was  a  "pirate  of  eminence  in 
the  West  Indies."  As  a  sea  story  pure  and  simple,  "Captain  Brand"  haa 
tiever  been  excelled,^  and  as  a  story  of  piratical  life,  told  without  the  usual 
•mbelllshments  of  blood  and  thunder,   it  has  no  equal. 

NICK  OP  THE  WOODS.  A  story  of  the  Early  Settlers  of  Kentucky.  By 
Robert  Montgomery  Bird.  Cloth,  i2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson 
Davis.    Price,  Ji.oo. 

This  most  popular  novel  and  thrilling  story  of  early  frontier  life  in 
Kentucky  was  originally  i^ublished  in  the  year  1837.  The  novel,  long  out  of 
print,  had  in  its  day  a  phenomenal  sale,  for  its  realistic  presentation  of 
Indian  and  frontier  life  in  the  early  days  of  settlement  in  the  South,  nar- 
rated in  the  tale  with  all  the  art  of  a  practiced  writer.  A  very  charminR 
love  romance  runs  through  the  story.  This  new  and  tastsful  edition  of 
"Nick  of  the  Woods"  will  be  certain  to  make  many  new  admlrere  for 
tMs   enchanting   story  from   Dr.    Bird's  clever  and   versatile   pen. 

T«r  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  ty  the 
OUblishcrs,  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  114-120  East  23d  Street,  Ke\5  York 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romances  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
?f  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerfu*  ^-omasces  of  love  aad  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


GUY  FA^VKES.  A  Romance  of  the  Gunpowder  Treason.  By  "Wm,  Harrl. 
soa  Ainsworth,  Cloth,  lamo.  vrith  four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank. 
Price,  Ji.oo. 

The  "Gunpowder  Plot"  was  a  modest  attempt  to  blow  up  Parliament, 
the  King  and  his  Counsellors.  James  of  Scotland,  then  King  of  England, 
■was  weak-minded  and  extravagant.  He  hit  upon  the  efficient  scheme  of 
extorting  money  from  the  people  by  imposing  taxes  on  the  Catholics.  In 
their  natural  resentment  to  this  extortion,  a  handful  of  bold  spirita  con- 
cluded to  overthrow  the  government.  Finally  the  plotters  were  arrested, 
and  the  King  put  to  torture  Guy  Fawkes  and  the  other  prisoners  witl* 
royal  vigor.     A  ver>   intense  love  story  runs  through  the  entire  romance. 

THE  SPIRIT  OP  THE  BORDER.  A  Romance  of  the  Early  Settlers  in  the 
Ohio  Valley.  By  Zane  Grey.  Cloth.  i2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watsoa 
Davis.    Price,  |i. 00. 

A  book  rather  out  of  the  ordinary  Is  this  "Spirit  of  the  Border."  Th« 
main  thread  of  the  story  has  to  do  with  the  work  of  the  Moravian  mla- 
feionaries  in  the  Ohio  Valley.  Incidenta,lly  the  reader  is  given  details  of  th« 
frontier  life  of  those  hardy  pioneers  who  broke  the  wilderness  for  the  plant- 
ing of  this  great  nation.  Chief  among  these,  as  a  matter  of  course,  fa 
L-^wis  Wetzel,  one  of  the  most  peculiar,  and  at  the  same  time  the  most 
timlrable  of  all  the  brave  men  who  spent  their  lives  battling  with  the 
jtdvage  foe,   that  others  might  dwell  in  comparative  security. 

Details  of  the  establishment  and  destruction  of  the  Moravian  "Villaga 
CI  Peace"  are  given  at  some  length,  and  with  minute  description.  The 
e.Torts  to  Christianize  the  Indians  are  described  as  they  never  have  been 
before,  and  the  author  has  depicted  the  characters  of  the  leaders  of  the 
several  Indian  tribes  with  great  care,  which  of  itself  will  be  of  interest  to 
the   student. 

By  no  means  least  among  the  charms  of  the  story  are  the  vivfd  word- 
rictures  of  the  thrilling  adventures,  and  the  Intense  paintings  of  the  beau- 
ties of  nature,   as  seen   in  the   almost  unbrok-:-*   forests. 

It  is  the  spirit  of  the  frontier  which  is  aescribed,  ajid  one  can  by  it; 
perhaps,  the  better  understand  why  men,  and  women,  too,  willingly  bravei 
e\  L'ry  privation  and  danger  that  the  westward  progress  of  the  star  of  em- 
pire might  be  the  more  certain  and  capid.  A  love  story,  simple  and  tender, 
runs  through  the  book. 

RICHELIEU.  A  tale  of  France  in  the  reign  of  King  I,ouis  XIII.  By  G.  P. 
R.  James,  Cloth,  i2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J.  Watson  Davis.  Price,  fi.oa. 

In  1829  Mr.  James  published  his  first  romance,  "Richelieu,"  and  was 
recognized  at  once  as  one  of  the  masters  of  the  craft. 

In  this  book  he  laid  the  story  during  those  later  days  of  the  great  car- 
^linal's  life,  when  his  power  was  beginning  to  wane,  but  while  it  was 
3'ot  sufficiently  strong  to  permit  now  and  then  of  volcanic  outbursts  which 
c  verwhelmed  foes  and  carried  friends  to  the  topmost  wave  of  prosperity. 
One  of  the  most  striking  portions  of  the  story  is  that  of  Cinq  Mar's  conspir- 
acy; the  method  of  conducting  criminal  cases,  and  the  political  trickery 
r -sorted  to  by  royal  favorites,  affording  a  better  Insight  into  the  state- 
craft of  that  day  than  can  be  bad  even  by  an  exhaustive  study  of  history. 
1\  13  a  powerful  romance  of  love  and  diplomacy,  and  ia  point  of  thrilling 
and  absorbing   interest  has  never  been   excelled. 

Far  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  recelpi  of  price  by  the 
pubHfhers,  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  114-120  East  23d  Street.  New  York 


Good  Fiction  Worth  Reading. 

A  series  of  romancee  containing  several  of  the  old  favorites  in  the  field 
of  historical  fiction,  replete  with  powerful  romances  of  love  and  diplomacy 
that  excel  in  thrilling  and  absorbing  interest. 


WINDSOR  CASTLE.  A  Historical  Romance  of  the  Reign^f  Henry  VIIL, 
Catharine  of  Aragon  and  Anne  Boleyn.  By  Wm,  Harrison  Ainsworth.  Cioth, 
«2mo.  with  four  illustrations  by  George  Cruikshank.    Price,  $i.oo. 

"Windsor  Castle"  is  the  story  of  Henry  VIII.,  Catharine,  and  Anne 
Boleyn.  "Bluff  King:  Hal,"  although  a  well-loved  monarch,  was  none  too 
Bood  a  one  in  many  ways.  Of  all  his  selfishness  and  unwarrantable  acts, 
none  was  more  discreditable  than  his  divorce  from  Catharine,  and  his  mar- 
I'iape  to  the  beautiful  Anne  Boleyn.  The  King's  love  was  as  brief  as  it 
was  vehement.  Jane  Seymour,  waiting  maid  on  the  Queen,  attracted  him, 
mnd  Anne  Boleyn  was  forced  to  the  block  to  make  room  for  her  successor- 
Thla  romance  is  one  of  extreme  interest  to  all  readers. 

HORSESHOE  ROBINSON.  A  tale  of  the  Tory  Ascendency  in  South  Cattv 
lina  in  1780.  By  John  P.  Kennedy.  Cloth,  lamo.  with  four  illustrations  by  J. 
Watson  Davis.    Price,  |i.oo. 

Among  the  old  favorites  In  the  field  of  what  Is  known  as  historical  fic- 
lion,  there  are  none  which  appeal  to  a  larger  number  of  Americana  than 
liorseshoe  Robinson,  and  this  because  it  is  the  only  story  wrfich  depict* 
^Ith  fidelity  to  the  facts  the  heroic  efforts  of  the  colonists  in  South  Caro- 
lina to  defend  their  homes  against  the  brutal  oppression  of  the  Brltlell 
under  such  leaders  as  Cornwallls  and  Tarleton. 

The  reader  is  charmed  with  the  story  of  love  which  forms  the  thread 
of  the  tale,  and  then  impressed  with  the  wealth  of  detail  concerning  those 
times.  The  picture  of  the  manifold  sufferings  of  the  people,  is  never  over- 
drawn, but  painted  faithfully  and  honestly  by  one  who  spared  neither 
time  nor  labor  in  his  efforts  to  present  in  this  charming  love  story  all  that 
price  in  blood  and  tears  which  the  Carolinians  paid  as  their  share  in  the 
winning  of  the  republic. 

Take  it  all  in  all,  "Horseshoe  Robinson"  Is  a  work  which  should  be 
found  on  every  book-shelf,  not  only  because  it  is  a  most  entertaining 
Btory,  but  because  of  the  wealth  of  valuable  information  concerning  the 
colonists  which  it  contains.  That  It  has  been  brought  out  once  more,  well 
Illustrated,  is  something  which  will  give  pleasure  to  thousands  who  have 
long  desired  an  opportunity  to  read  the  story  again,  and  to  the  many  who 
have  tried  vainly  in  these  latter  days  to  procure  a  copy  that  they  might 
read  it  for  the  first  time. 

THE  PEARL  OF  ORR'S  ISLAND.  A  story  of  the  Coast  of  Maine.  By 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe.    Cloth,  izmo.    niustrated.    Price,  $1.00. 

Written  prior  to  1862,  the  "Pearl  of  Orr's  Island"  Is  ever  new;  a  book 
filled  with  delicate  fancies,  such  as  seemingly  array  themselves  anew  earb 
time  one  reads  them.  One  sees  the  "sea  like  an  unbroken  mirror  all 
around  the  pine-girt,  lonely  shores  of  Orr's  Island."  and  straightway 
comes  "the  heavy,  hollow  moan  of  the  surf  on  the  beach,  like  the  wil<J 
angry  howl   of  some  savage   animal." 

Who  can  read  of  the  beginning  of  that  sweet  life,  named  Mara,  which 
came  into  this  world  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  Death  angel's  wings, 
•without  having  an  intense  desire  to  know  how  the  premature  bud  blos- 
somed? Again  and  again  one  lingers  over  the  descriptions  of  the  char- 
acter of  that  baby  boy  Moses,  who  came  through  the  tempest,  amid  the 
angrv  billows,  pillowed  orj  his  dead  mother's  breast. 

Thene  Is  no  more  faithful  portrayal  of  New  England  life  than  that 
Which  Mrs.  6towe  gives  in   "The  Pearl   of  Orr's  Island." 

F©r  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  pmb« 
Ushers,  A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  53-58  Duane  St.,  New  York. 


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